


The Convergence Series

by shaenie



Series: The Convergence Series [1]
Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: Angst, BDSM, F/M, Kinky, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-17
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 181,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenie/pseuds/shaenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone liked Dom; Dom was one of those blokes that was eminently likable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cusp

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and if was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny deails might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

Not long after meeting him, Billy's instincts had prickled at him about Dom. Prickled fiercely, in fact, practically stung. He was gorgeous, of course, but it wasn't so much that as it was the set of his body, the cock of his head. It was the way that Dom watched things, watched people. It was the way that Dom looked at Orlando when Orlando unfolded himself from a chair to laugh into Dom's face and hug him before he even knew Dom's name. It wasn't an unfamiliar prickle or an unpleasant one, but the sting that accompanied, that was ... not new, but unexpected.

Dom wore a thick band of leather around his right wrist.

Leather that was rough on the inside and smooth and gleaming on the outside.

He genuinely liked Dom, though, had liked him immediately and all at once. And the two of them were going to be working together rather closely for the foreseeable future. It would have been a very bad time for his prickling instincts to have been wrong. A very awkward time. A potentially fucking disastrous time, in fact.

So he had set that aside, he had done nothing. Nothing but watch, and only that because he couldn't quite help it. He wanted to know how much of what he suspected about Dom was correct. He wanted to know if Dom would prickle like that for him.

It had taken some time (more time than Billy liked, in fact) for him to come the understanding that things didn't work like that with Dom. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed that Dom was intuitive. It was merely that he hadn't immediately recognized the true extent of it, hadn't recognized how much instinct governed Dom's actions. When he had finally seen, it was too late for him to watch for Dom's interests to flicker in his eyes, to show in some way that Billy could see and record and consider.

If Dom had shown anything at all, it had happened already, probably within the first hours or days that they had known each other, before Billy had known he should be looking for it. By the time he understood how Dom functioned, anything Dom might have been showing would have been concealed again. If Dom had shown any definite signs, Billy hadn't seen them, and since Dom was a creature of instinct, Dom would have reined them in, would have shut them down, shut them off, locked them up.

It had been a busy time. It had been so full of meeting new people and settling in a new country and getting used to a new schedule that it wasn't entirely surprising that Billy's normally dependable and astute perceptions had failed him. Still, Billy wanted to just fucking kick himself for not having paid attention when it might have mattered. When things might still have been simple.

By the time he'd come to this conclusion, by the time he had thought it to death (he was quite aware that thinking things through too extensively was only a different kind of fault than acting entirely without thought), he had known Dom long enough that casually fucking him was no longer an option.

Dom was a mate. He liked Dom.

Everyone liked Dom; Dom was one of those blokes that was eminently likeable.

He liked Dom, and things would become impossibly complicated if he fucked Dom. It would be unavoidable. As it stood, things could go on as they were, things could continue normally, without tension and without discomfort. He could let things stand with friendship, he could let that be enough. Billy could just sit back and let this opportunity pass him by. Let Dom pass him by.

He had done a play once, about a bloke who narrowly missed every opportunity that had come his way. It was meant to be a comedy, this play, was meant to be a riot in fact, watching this hapless bloke turn in the wrong direction two seconds before everything could have come up roses, if only he'd turned the _right_ direction. Repeatedly.

It hadn't been very fucking funny.

But then, there were a lot of things about the inherent risks involved in this situation that weren't very fucking funny either. Having Dom regard _him_ in the way that he currently regarded Orlando would _not_ be funny. Not in any way.

There was only one thing to do, really.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Pretend that he didn't read Dom that way, that he hadn't felt that small, quiet burn that might indicate that Dom and he would get on well together with the lights out and the shades down, with Billy's hands leaving marks on Dom's body. Pretend, in fact, that he had no desire to leave marks of any sort on Dom's body.

That would be the wisest thing.

Billy knew that. He did.

~~~

  
Billy was in a booth with Orlando, both of them drinking the dark, rich beer that the pub kept on tap. The smell of it permeated the place, thick and yeasty, and that was one of the things Billy liked about it. Dom was at the bar, hips cocked aggressively (very nice) as he argued with some local bloke about the footie match on the telly. There was much violent gesturing involved, but Billy wasn't worried. Not in this pub. The locals here had long since adopted them, they were practically considered locals themselves, and that was another thing Billy liked about it.

Elijah was on the prowl (if the word could ever be said to apply to Elijah, who still blushed when Orlando smacked him on the arse) chatting up a girl even smaller than he was. Bean and Viggo had retreated to a separate table in the far corner of the room, ostensibly to play chess with Bean's travel set, but Billy suspected they were really talking about Sean's newly ex-wife. It was the look on Sean's face, which was an odd mixture of bafflement and frustrated anger, and the look on Viggo's, which was calm and supportive and sympathetic in all the best ways. Billy had already had to stop Orlando from going over and hanging on Bean twice, and the way that Orlando was looking at Bean now made Billy think he was soon going to have to stop him yet again.

Orlando meant well, but Orlando didn't always know when to leave things alone.

"Say, Orlando," Billy said, and he was half amused and half appalled to find himself genuinely curious about the question he was about to put forth as a distraction. He was pretty sure of the answer already, but he was curious as to what Orlando would actually say when presented with the question. "You a top or a bottom? Your preference, I mean."

Orlando turned to look at him, his beer tilted slightly and halfway to his lips, and Billy remembered (and for some reason it surprised him every time he saw it) why he'd spent the first week or so after meeting Orlando trying to think of a good excuse to shag him senseless. Orlando was beautiful all the time, and that was reason enough, of course, but that hadn't been what had made Billy want to fuck him then, and it wasn't what made him remember it now. It was the fact that sometimes, when he wasn't fucking around, when he wasn't strutting or smiling or flirting or playing, Billy could see something much deeper in Orlando's eyes. It had never been defined. Billy didn't know anything about it, really, except that there was something else there, something that Orlando didn't share much. It was there now, mysterious and interesting, as Orlando gave him a long, considering look.

They hadn't ever really talked about sex or sexuality, not like this. Not seriously. There was the standard flirting and laughing and taunting that happened between all of them, but that was play, and Orlando excelled at play. They had never had a real conversation about it, not two of them, and it occurred to Billy that Orlando hadn't ever actually told him (probably hadn't told anyone, excepting Dominic, of course) that he wasn't completely straight. He knew it, was certain beyond doubt that Orlando was bi, but not because he'd been told that by anyone. He'd seen enough of Orlando and Dominic together not to need to be told, though they were fairly circumspect about it. He was slightly pleased that Orlando didn't rebuff the question with his ready, grinning flirting.

"Top," he said instead, and took a drink of his beer. "With some notable exceptions."

Billy couldn't say he was exactly surprised. He'd seen Orlando's interest piqued (usually it was directed toward Dom), seen Orlando's eyes go glittering and predatory and observed his smile become something dangerous and captivating, and thought Orlando was gifted at giving off the appearance, at least, of being the aggressor. More than once, though, he had also seen Orlando's eyes go liquid-dark and open, and those were the times when Billy thought about abandoning his resolution to leave Orlando alone.

That resolution was the only one that made practical sense, seeing as he had been fairly sure very early on that Orlando wouldn't truly enjoy Billy's idea of what constituted satisfying sex, and if he couldn't enjoy it then there wasn't much point in initiating it. In this case, instinct and intellect agreed: Orlando might get off on it a few times, but in the end, it wouldn't be his cup of tea, so to speak, and Billy wasn't really interested in casual sex. Not with the cast, anyway. Too much chance of backlash.

Or maybe he was _too_ interested in casual sex with the cast, and thus wary of backlash. At times, he wasn't quite sure which. Sometimes there didn't seem to be much of a distinction. The cast, after all, included some exceptionally beautiful people. At the bar, Dom had slung his arm around the shoulders of the bloke he'd been arguing with, and they were toasting boisterously, with much splashing of lager about them.

 _Backlash_ , he reminded himself. _Backlash is bad. Complicated._

"I've never subbed, though," Orlando said abruptly, and Billy looked back toward him, and knew his eyes had widened slightly with surprise he hadn't meant to show when Orlando bared his teeth at him in a satisfied, and slightly evil grin.

The funny thing about Orlando, the thing that made him interesting, was that it was easy to forget. He wondered how much of that was intentional, how much Orlando deliberately camouflaged his intelligence, his insight. There was more to Orlando than the grinning twit he so readily displayed himself as, but it was hard to remember that, even when you'd seen it a dozen times, because Orlando the Twit was much more visible than this other thing, more vibrant and present and noticeable. Was it deviousness, or just Orlando? It was hard to say, even looking at him now, with his eyes sparkling with familiar humor. There was just a touch of smugness, too, smugness at understanding something about Billy that Billy had not known he understood.

And there it was again, feeling unfamiliar because it had been a while, the desire to wipe the grin off of Orlando's face, to see him (and he'd be so fucking pretty, Billy knew) aching and open and vulnerable, to undo him. Billy smiled back at Orlando, a small smile that was comfortable on his face, and watched Orlando measure it with his eyes, and retreat carefully.

He wasn't really disappointed. It would be a bad idea, no matter how pretty Orlando might be, and they both knew it. No backlash. No complications. No casually engaging in somewhat kinky sex with his cast mates. No.

And besides that, Billy's interest in Orlando was transitory, confined to those times when Orlando went serious and calm, and those were few and far between. Orlando might have more to him than he generally exhibited, but a whole damned lot of him was exactly what he exhibited. While Billy loved him, and loved those things about him, he wasn't especially interested in regularly shagging a guy that couldn't sit still for two minutes together, took very little with any real seriousness, and was a top, by preference, as well.

"Teasing cunt," Billy said, though it wasn't precisely true, and let his face relax into amusement.

Orlando stuck his tongue out. "Sadistic fuck," he shot back, and that wasn't quite true, either.

But they laughed.

~~

  
They didn't think alike, he and Dom, Billy recognized that.

If Billy operated mainly on instinct, things would not have been as complicated. Dominic was all about instinct. He made quick judgments on people, quick and remarkably accurate. He recognized, on some level, those little things, little signals that everyone gave off every minute of every day. They translated in Dom's mind, they had meaning. Dom always knew when someone was in a mood, always knew when what had been a pissing-contest was about to turn into actual physical conflict, and always knew who to go home with, who could be trusted with his body and his secrets.

He wondered what Dom's instincts told him about Billy, wondered if Dom suspected to what degree their interests might coincide, as Billy did. He thought it was a good bet that Dominic did, with those precise fucking instincts guiding him. But it was possible that Dom didn't really know how good his instincts were. It was possible that, at some point, he had been watching Billy (like Billy had watched him), and had not seen those little signs that his mind translated so quickly, or had not seen enough of them, because Billy kept those things closely guarded. Very closely guarded. And Dom wasn't the kind of bloke who would presume.

Billy had watched Dom size people up in clubs (Dom went home with tops, strong tops, like Orlando, but he had never seen Dom go home with anyone more decidedly dominant than that, had never seen him go home with someone whose dominance was overt and tangible, and it frustrated him because without that, he just couldn't be certain, not really certain, even with what _his_ instincts told him), had watched him size Orlando up, in fact, had seen him draw all the correct conclusions and never question the fact that he was right. Dom rarely questioned his instincts. But even if he had seen something in Billy that made his instincts tweak, Dom would never assume that it meant anything without some kind of tangible sign or invitation. Orlando, being Orlando, hadn't thought twice about giving an invitation.

Billy didn't do that. Billy was too contained, too considering to just see and want and take. It wasn't in him to fuck around with the people he cared about, because things like that got complicated, got ugly, caused pain and unease. He had seen it too many times to want to be a participant in something like that.

It was better this way, without all the difficulties such a relationship ( _relationship? since when did shagging put you in a relationship?_ ) would inevitably produce. Maybe very early on, that could have happened without risk to either of them.

It hardly mattered now, whether that had ever been true or not. Dominic wasn't some random girl or bloke picked up in a bar based on a combination of good looks and certain signs of a predisposition toward submission. Dom was his friend. That changed things irrevocably. There was no going back to before friendship had removed Dom's name from Billy's list of possible partners.

If Billy had instincts like Dom's they would have shagged already, and neither of them would have taken it very seriously.

Billy did not, however. He didn't have that special little translator in his head that Dom had. Or his didn't work at the same capacity as Dominic's did. Lacking that, he depended upon thought and serious contemplation. He had experience with what happened when he trusted to instinct without thought, and instinct was wrong. It was something that Billy acted to avoid any time that he could. If there was no time to think, only to do, Billy trusted instinct to get him through. If there was time, though, he considered it. Carefully.

Especially in situations like this.

He considered it, and wisdom told him to let it go.

He intended to let it go.

~~

  
If they had been completely alone, he and Dom, it probably wouldn't have happened. Billy probably would have avoided rolling around in the sun warmed sand with Dom to begin with, if they had been completely alone. If Elijah hadn't crawled away about two minutes before - wet-eyed from laughing, and with several itchy handfuls of sand stuffed down the back of his wetsuit by Dominic, but still chuckling and snorting mirth - to collapse onto the blankets that had been set up hours earlier fifty yards further up the beach, he most certainly wouldn't have done it. Elijah would have had a massive fucking coronary.

If Orlando and a half dozen other members of the crew hadn't been far out upon the waves, so far they were the size of the army men Billy had owned as a boy, Billy most likely would not have done it.

It didn't really matter, though. Circumstances had coincided to provide the opportunity, Dom had pushed, and wisdom had been nothing more than a strangled voice somewhere in the back of Billy's lust-addled brain.

Elijah was probably already asleep and Orlando and company couldn't see a thing from way out there, and Dom was breathing on the back of his neck while he tried to get Billy in a headlock (he definitely intended to stuff sand down Billy's wetsuit, and there was absolutely no way he was going to allow that), and wisdom just didn't really fucking enter into it. He came up off the sand, sliding easily out of Dom's wet, sweaty hands, twisted his body and flung Dom off. Dom landed on his arse and skidded a foot or so, eyes wide and surprised.

"Jeet Kune Do," Billy said. "Rank four." And he hoped that Dom would keep his distance. Anything close would reveal the fact that he'd been having something other than good clean fun about five seconds before. Anything close might reveal rather clearly that Dom had triggered his desire with his sun-kissed skin and warm, wet body, and that his desire had not necessarily been adverse to shoving Dom off, feeling Dom fall under his hands, forcing Dom to the ground to gaze up at him with wide, bright eyes.

"Nice!" Dom said, surprise eclipsed by his ready grin, but his eyes glittered in a way that Billy's body recognized (and it hit him harder than he had expected, startled him in spite of the fact that Billy wasn't at all surprised to feel the desire itself), glittered at being manhandled, and oh fuck, that looked good on him. He started toward Billy again, and Billy derailed him by turning deliberately away ( _Just stay back, he thought, just stay out of my reach and we might both get out of this without anything getting too tangled up. Don't let me see you looking at me like that, you tempting little prick._ ) and gesturing out toward Orlando.

"He's getting good at that," he said, and wanted to roll his eyes at himself for saying something so patently ridiculous as Orlando chose that moment to teeter sideways off his board and into the water. "Or not," he amended, watching Dom from the edges of his vision, and sat back, elbows on knees.

Dom sat down next to him and didn't say anything.

Billy tried not to remember the way that Dom had prickled and stung at him months ago, the way that heated beast that lay dormant inside him most of the time had rolled and roused and blinked at Dom, and wanted him. He tried not to think of that little twinge of recognition, intuition, instinct that had whispered: _He could be for me. He's up for it._

He still half-wished he had let that guide him, had followed Dominic home that same night and shoved him against the wall with his body, shoved him and held him and looked into his eyes to see what was there, to see if heat and want would blossom. He wished it could be simple, and he tried not to think about it, because every time he wished for it, the more clearly he understood that it was _not_ simple. Not at all.

Dom leaned over and touched his forehead, touched between his brows where Billy knew a deep, vertical line formed when he was thinking hard. Dom smoothed it with his fingertips. "What's got you all knotted up, Bill?" he asked, not smiling, concerned.

Billy turned to look at him. He could feel the expression on his own face. He had never seen it himself, had only seen it reflected back at him on the faces of others who were soft and open and pliant with need, but he'd seen that often enough to know what if felt like. Something shifted in Dom's face, but it was brief and quickly dismissed (and it was faintly surprising, as Billy hadn't ever actually seen Dom deliberately repress his instinctive response like that before) as Dom regarded him seriously. "You don't want to know," Billy said. His voice had gone deep and a little silky, and he recognized that, too.

That shifting interest was there for a moment longer this time (and he couldn't help but watch it, he knew better, but he couldn't help it), and Dom actually shook his head a little, shook it like he was shaking it off intentionally. It wasn't enough to be certain of anything, but he felt himself reacting anyway, felt his lips curl up and ( _This is not a good idea, this is too complicated_ , breezed across his mind faintly) into a slender smile that was not amusement.

" I do. Tell me," Dominic invited, and Dom was watching Billy intently, intensely, and the fact that things were not simple burned bright and clear in his brain for a moment.

"No," he said, and tugged his reluctant eyes away from Dominic's face. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Dom said, certain. ( _Dominic's perfect fucking instincts strike!_ Billy thought, half-amused, half-exasperated.) "It's something. But you don't want to tell me what it is."

Billy focused his gaze on Orlando, back on his board, still very small with distance. If he could see Orlando's face, it would be wide open with joy, he knew. There would be no hint of that dark, serious thing he occasionally saw in Orlando's eyes; there would be nothing but wild, turbulent, exultation.

He occasionally wondered if Orlando had a deathwish.

"Let it go, Dom," he said, and he hoped his tone would be the end of it, flat and final and neutral.

For a moment, Dom said nothing, and Billy thought maybe he _had_. Then Dom scooted closer and slung an arm around Billy's shoulders. "I shan't," he said decisively. And Billy could tell he was grinning by his voice.

"Shan't?" Billy repeated, lips quirking in spite of himself. "Did you just say 'shan't'?"

"Don't change the subject," Dom quipped. "What's up, Billy boy? What's on your twisted excuse for a mind?"

"Get off, Dom, you wanker," Billy said, trying for lightness, and hitting pretty close to the mark. He pushed an elbow fairly gently into Dom's ribs and slid out from under his arm. Then he was up on his knees and not sure what he wanted to do, as it wouldn't do to seem like he didn't want Dom touching him. He didn't, but that was beside the point.

He stood up, only because that seemed the logical next step to having risen to his knees, and Dom caught him by the ankle and jerked hard, sending him sprawling into the sand on his arse and elbows. Dom pounced on him only a moment later, grinning maniacally, and Billy expected handfuls of sand to follow, but instead Dom kissed him lightly on the mouth.

Billy just looked at him, feeling his body stirring, feeling his mind shifting gears without quite being able to stop it, despite knowing that this was not a good idea (he tasted salt on Dom's lips, salt from the sea), and Dom took advantage of his silence to turn serious. "You can tell me, you know," he said. His eyes were charcoal gray, darker than Billy had ever seen them, and maybe it was only because they reflected the color of what he was wearing (he had noticed this, particularly when Dom wore blue) and his wetsuit was black, or maybe it was because he was showing Billy plainly what Billy had spent the last several months looking for from the corners of his eyes. "You can tell me anything."

 _You already know_ , he thought. _You know and I know you know, so what do you want from me?_ But he said: "Don't," and pushed Dom off of him - not hard this time, not to watch him sprawl - and sat up. His skin itched at Dom's nearness, and he could clearly see the situation spiraling out of his control, and he hated that, he had always fucking hated that feeling. "I can't tell you this, and you shouldn't ask."

"Why not?" Dom asked, voice deceptively light, eyes not light at all.

Billy could feel his patience going, taking his equilibrium with it, his equilibrium and his resolution to keep Dom at arm's length. The sun was hot on his shoulders, and Dom's nearness was zinging along every inch of his exposed skin, and several inches of unexposed skin. "Too complicated," he said shortly, and wasn't happy with the way his voice sounded sharply seductive when he wanted it to sound clipped and dismissive. He'd always had excellent control over his voice and his face, had always been able to show what he wanted to show and nothing more, and he didn't like it that Dom could pull things out of him that he didn't mean to display.

"You are making it more complicated than it has to be," Dom said, and then Dom had his arms slung loosely around Billy's neck and the weight of Dom's body was descending on him, sending him back to elbows again with Dom pressed against him, half atop him, and Billy could feel every inch of what he'd been looking at without quite looking at over the last several weeks. And for a moment, Billy couldn't move away. He knew even the surfers, still far out on the water, couldn't miss this type of an embrace if they were looking, even if they couldn't make out the details. This kind of an embrace was blatantly sexual, Dom was on top of him in the sand, resting full length along Billy's body, Billy's knees cocked up and feet planted, Dominic resting neatly between his thighs. And he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

Not for long moments of looking at Dom. Dom's eyes, open and dark and sultry ( _and Dom was breathing slightly harder than what might be considered normal_ ). Dom's lips, parted and inviting ( _and Dom's hips were snugged tightly to Billy's and there couldn't be much doubt in Dom's mind that Billy's body, at least, had no problems whatsoever with its situation_ ). Dom's tongue, darting out to wet his lips, pink and quick ( _and Dom was making a sound, a noise, a low humming kind of something that rumbled in his chest, which Billy could feel rumbling against his own chest_ ). Dom pressed up against him felt like thunder trapped in skin, thunder, which made him think of lightning, because thunder was just the sound lightning made when it arced through the sky, displacing air and moisture, discharging energy. And it all seemed so appropriate, Dom-thunder and Billy-lightning, because he knew he could be lightning for Dominic. He knew he could.

And he wanted that. He did. He could taste the smoky flavor of it on the back of his tongue, stingingly intense.

"Get off, Dom," Billy managed (commanded) finally, trying to concentrate on the feeling of his naked elbows digging uncomfortably into too-hot sand where they were supporting his (their) weight and not on the way Dom's body felt against his.

"Make me," Dom murmured, thick-hot delicious voiced, and Billy knew he would, knew he was going to, because he had never seen that look so plain on Dom's face, that look that added: 'I want you to,' to the end of "make me" as clearly as if Dom had said it out loud.

"Dammit, Dominic," Billy growled softly, and planted a hand in the middle of Dom's chest and shoved hard, sent him sprawling into the sand on his back with an audible thump that pushed Dom's breath from his chest with a little 'huh.' Billy twisted to his knees beside him, and glanced at Dom long enough to see that his face was open and startled, but his eyes were darker than ever, more wanting. Wanting more. He caught Dom by an arm and hip and flipped him neatly onto his belly.

"Wha ...?" Dom said, but didn't finish as Billy dropped onto his back, and the breath gusted out of him again. He and Dom were nearly the same height, and Billy liked that. He liked it a lot. Splayed on Dom's back like this, they fit together, inch for inch, toe to crown. He caught Dom's wrists in his hands (Dom twisted them, but not hard enough to break even the lightest of grips, more like he was just feeling Billy's grip, experiencing it) and dragged them upward through the sand, leaving trails like snow-angel wings. He pinned them neatly above Dom's head, held them there with both hands, and for a moment, he just breathed on the back of Dom's neck and stored up the memory of Dom's body pinned beneath him, stored up the tension and the tight play of muscle as Dom thrummed a little.

"You have to fucking push me, don't you, Dominic. You can't just let it go, trust that I am not playing when I tell you to _let it go_." He could hear it in his own voice, hear it in his tone, heavy with silken threat, he could hear how much he wanted Dom, and he knew damned well Dom would hear it too. _Let him go, let him up_ , his mind yammered, but it felt distant and unimportant.

"I don't _want_ you to let it go," Dom snarled ( _wolf snarl_ ) beneath him, and pressed back, deliberately pushed back into Billy, the little fucker. Frustration sparked him as easily as lust, and he had both in what seemed like massive quantities at the moment.

"Dominic," he warned, but he was breathing on the back of Dom's neck, he could smell the ocean on Dom's skin, and it was already too late, too late.

"Come on," Dom breathed, and that flashed hot in his mind, flashed hot and vivid and stroked him in all the right places. Dominic _needing_ , oh fuck fuck fuck, how was he supposed to resist Dominic _needing_?

"Dominant wolves," he whispered hoarsely, "bite the necks of their mates to force them to show submission." Dom sucked in a breath, and Billy bit down hard on the back of his neck, clamped his teeth into Dom's sea-salty skin and felt Dom shift and writhe sweetly beneath him for about three seconds. Then he relaxed abruptly, all at once.

Dom's hands had clawed furrows into the sand above his pinned wrists, but they had relaxed now, turned upward, palms slightly cupped, fingers curled and relaxed, and Billy wasn't sure if that was deliberate or just an example of Dominic's excellent fucking instincts. Billy wanted to see his face, but he didn't move. Not yet. The taste of Dom's skin was in his mouth, and it took real and deliberate force of will to make him relax his jaw and let go. He listened to Dom breathe heavily beneath him, and considered all the reasons why he should not do this.

"What," Dom said hoarsely, "do the other wolves do, the ones that aren't ... dominant?" His voice was all wanting angles.

Billy closed his eyes, closed them tightly and resisted the urge to grind downward, to push against Dom. "They take it, Dominic," he murmured against the back of Dom's neck, and felt Dom's skin ripple with chills against his lips. "They fucking take it."

Dom let out a little sound, half choked off moan that made Billy ache. _Jesus, what are you doing, what the fuck are you doing?_ his mind demanded, and he might have pulled back then, but Dom said: " Do they fight back, Bill? Do they snarl and scratch and bite back?" He sounded drugged, his voice was heavy and thick, and Billy felt ensnared, helpless, and it had been a long, long time since he had been helpless in the throes of desire.

His cock was jerking, he was so hard there was real pain there, and he ground down against Dom ( _oh fucking jesus god, he feels so goddamned good_ ), and Dom's fingers twitched and his breath hitched and he pushed back. "Sometimes," Billy hissed, and pushed harder, pushed until he heard Dom whine a little ( _yes, fucking yes_ ), a sound that made his mind somehow reel wildly and focus completely at the same time. He wanted more, more than this, and he couldn't make himself stop, not when Dom wasn't asking him to, showed no signs of wanting him to stop ( _this is a bad fucking idea, this is the worst idea ever, this is going to be too everfucking complicated to survive_ ). But he heard himself asking: "Are you hard, Dommie?" lips lightly grazing the outer edge of Dom's ear, and feeling Dom shiver under his body, under his lips.

"Find out," Dom whispered harshly, sneering, taunting, and twisted his wrists in Billy's grip, jerked against his hold, then clawed at the sand again. He shifted upward, pressing back hard enough to lift his hips up off the ground, and Billy heard himself making a sound of his own, a short, growling as he pushed his knee between Dom's thighs and shoved them apart, forcing his hips back down to meet the sand.

God, he wanted to wipe that sneer out of Dom's voice, wanted to reduce it to inarticulate cries and pleading. He wanted to see Dom's pretty mouth curling with that sneer only so that he could destroy it, use his voice and his mouth and his body to fucking decimate it, utterly obliterate it, leave that pretty fucking mouth gasping and slack and whimpering need at him.

 _Don't,_ he thought. _You can't do this, you especially can't do this here, and you know you shouldn't do it at all._

Dom made a sound, quiet, urgent ( _fucking Dom and those fucking sounds he made, needing, desperate sounds, and he could give Dom what he needed, fuck yeah he could_ ), and squirmed beneath him for a moment before jerking downward instead, grinding down, grinding himself (his cock) against the shifting sand. Dom's hands were clenched around fistfuls of sand, and Billy's hands were white knuckled fists, clamped around Dom's wrists. "Come on, Bill," Dom moaned, unmistakable moan this time, unrepentant want there, unrepentant and heated and fucking beautiful. There was less sneering challenge and more almost-pleading in his voice now. "Find out."

 _Jesus Fucking Christ, stop now!_ Billy ordered himself harshly, ordered his hands, and his mouth ( _when had he sunk his teeth back into Dom's goddamned neck?_ ), and his cock. _This is it, either back the fuck off or fuck him right here on the beach, you stupid bastard. Get your fucking head together, this is not right, not right! Don't fucking do this to yourself, just let him go!_ And it was enough to bring things into sharper focus, because people who talked to themselves were not people capable of making rational decisions.

"Not today, Dom," he managed to grate out, and he let go (his hands didn't want to) and moved back on his knees, several feet back, in fact, to put some distance between them, and tried to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking with want, his whole body was practically vibrating with it.

But Dom was nothing if not determined, and he was up and kneeling in front of Billy in the sand in an instant, facing him so that they were eye to eye, with his hands clamped around Billy's hips to keep him from moving back. "What the fuck," he said with careful enunciation, "are you playing at, Bill?" He looked like he wasn't sure whether or not he was angry, eyes shifting from stormy, dark lust to bleak, grey fury and back again; Billy couldn't really blame him.

"I'm not playing," Billy said, and it was true, completely true, but he felt guilty nevertheless. He hand known better than to do this. He had known it would end up like this. Complicated.

"What are you waiting for then?" Dom demanded. "A fucking gold-plated invitation? Was I in some way vague when I invited you to fucking grope me?"

Dom's flawless instincts seemed to include a natural talent for sarcasm. "No. You weren't vague," he said, and didn't smile. It wouldn't do to have Dom try and slug him.

Dom looked at him, frowning and tense, and Billy watched with interest as his potential anger dissipated. He peered into Billy's face, concern clearly writ upon his features, and it made sense, because Dom knew him better than pretty much anyone else, and Dom would know damned well that what had just happened . . . whatever it had been exactly . . . wasn't something Billy would do lightly, or for no reason. He would know that Billy wasn't some kind of sadistic prick-tease, and so it must be something else. "What is it?" Dom asked, baffled and worried now. "I don't understand. What . . .?"

And he really had to say something, didn't he? "I just . . . I don't do the casual thing," he said, and pulled Dom's hands gently away from his hips. "I just don't." It was at least half invitation. Billy knew it, even if he couldn't quite force himself to say it. He knew it, and he knew that Dom would understand that as well. _Fucking instinct_ , and the thought was remarkably bitter, and he pushed it aside with effort. This was not Dominic's fault. Not entirely. Yes, Dom had pushed him, but Billy should have had better control over himself, better control over them both. That was what he _did_ , for God's sake, and he had really bloody well buggered it this time.

"Oh," Dom said. He sank heavily back onto his heels, his eyes surprised and tempestuous. "You don't ..." His gaze skipped to the indentation their bodies had left in the sand, lingered on the furrows his hands had dug just above it. Billy could almost see the understanding form, quick, precise and he wanted to bite something out, something cutting and snide that would disarm that understanding, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't. "You ... oh."

Billy didn't say anything. There wasn't much point, at least until Dom had gotten over the initial shock.

It took a while.

"Not to be difficult or anything, here, Billy," he said finally, "but I have, in point of fact, seen you do 'the casual thing' before." He sounded a little tense, but not angry. Maybe a little baffled. Dominic was the only person Billy had ever met that could take something like this, and shift gears quickly enough to respond with anything remotely resembling calm. "So tell me what's different?"

"Not with a friend, Dom." And that was true, but not entirely true. It wasn't the complete truth, and Billy knew it. "I can't do what you and Orlando can do, what Liv and Viggo do. I don't do that. It's too complicated." And he could see enough massive complications looming in the future as it was. "Maybe I could have, months ago. Maybe. But not now. I can't do that with you." And that was it, that was the real truth right there. Not that he couldn't; that he couldn't _with Dom_. He couldn't help that it made him feel bitter, feel angry. "No matter how goddamned much I might want to." He looked out at the others, surfing, and the sunlight playing across the water in splintering fragments of light. "Are you getting me, Dom?"

"Yeah," Dom said. "Yeah, I am." And then several minutes later: "You're a fucking wanker, Billy."

Billy looked at him, and Dom was looking back seriously. He could see the want still drifting in Dom's eyes. His body could still feel it, tugging at him. He still wanted it like he had rarely wanted anything else in his life. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe I am." He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to say. But it had all been said already, it had all been understood, at least, if not said. He knew. Dom knew. So what difference did it make, really, if he just put it out there, just made things very fucking clear?

He snaked an arm out and caught the back of Dom's neck, pulled him close, and Dom let him. Dom met his eyes, and Billy hadn't really thought he would. Who the hell knew what that meant. If it meant anything. "Maybe I am, but you want me. And I'm telling you, Dom - are you listening?" Dom gave a bare nod, the slightest movement of his head. There was something a little like fear in his eyes now, and it made Billy's gut ache fiercely. He gentled his tone deliberately, made it as calm and matter of fact as he could. "You can have me. I know what you want, and I can give it to you. I want to give it to you. But I won't fuck around with you, Dominic." He paused. He knew it was a pause, and apparently so did Dom. He didn't try to move, he didn't look away. There was honest confusion on his face now, but still mixed with fear. "I can't do that with you," he said finally. "I'm sorry."

Dom drew back, and Billy let him. He propped his elbows back up on his knees and tried to will his erection out of existence.

Dom scrubbed at his face with both hands. "What if I don't?" he said, and there was a flickering of pain in his voice. "What if I . . . " He seemed to be having trouble phrasing whatever it was he wanted to say, and Billy could guess why. "What if I don't decide I want . . . that, Bill?" _What if I don't decide I want **you** , Bill?_

Another thing that was understood but not said. And he had known that this was a possibility, had clearly understood that this could and probably would happen, which was exactly why he had been doing nothing to begin with. He had known this about Dom already. Dom was perfectly comfortable with casual. He had never seen Dom anything but casual. He had expected it. Expected this.

He looked at Dom and met his eyes when he spoke. "Then be my friend."

Dom's brows rose in disbelief. "That easy, is it?"

"This doesn't change anything between us," Billy said, and believed it to be completely true. "Things have been this way between you and I for some time, Dom. You just didn't know it until now."

"I would have seen," Dom said, and he sounded utterly sure of it. It was the first indication Billy had ever gotten that Dominic was aware of his instincts in the slightest.

"Sure about that, are you," Billy said, letting his voice drop into low tones. "Sure that you can see through me any time you like?" Dom just looked at him, studying him for long moments with his eyes squinted nearly shut. He looked away, eventually, jaw tight.

"You should have told me." His voice was low, but the tone was shifting, like he didn't know exactly what he wanted to put in it.

"Uh huh," Billy said, smiling a little. "Sure, I should have. When exactly would you have liked that? Before I knew? Before you did?"

Dom's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't smile. "Oh, you bloody fucking wanker," Dom said instead, and flopped back into the sand.

Billy didn't look directly at him, didn't move his eyes to the groin of Dom's wetsuit where he knew Dom's arousal would be painfully obvious if he were to look And he wanted to look, wanted to _see_ , but he would not. Should not. They had already pushed too hard at the limits of friendship today. Just knowing what he would see was enough to make him want to growl curses and spit venom and say _fuck complications_. Just roll on top of Dominic and show him exactly what Billy could do for him, what he could give him.

And doing that might have worked. They already loved each other, their friendship was already deep and good and solid. The things that they both wanted - the things they needed - were complimentary, and that was rare enough that it almost made it worth risking it, worth doing it, using his body and his skill to convince Dom.

If he did that, though, he would always feel like he had tricked Dominic. And maybe, some day, Dominic would feel the same way. And that would damage them both, that was the kind of thing that could rip their friendship to tatters, and Billy would not allow that.

And if he fucked Dom, if he took him and opened himself like that, and tomorrow or next week or next month, Dom chose to go home with Orlando ... well, that would be the worst of all possible complications. And Billy would not allow that, either.

Billy wasn't afraid of taking risks, but this wasn't about his risks. He already understood all the risks involved in this situation. He had been thinking about them for a long time now.

This was about Dominic's risks.

He dropped back onto the sand next to Dom. After a few minutes, Dom slid a leg companionably under Billy's and sighed. "Wanker," he muttered, and Billy grinned.

~~

Dom could say 'wanker' in seventeen languages.

Billy knew this because Dom had left them all on his answering machine, one message at a time.

He was pretty sure Dom had learned some of those translations specifically for this occasion.

Billy didn't really give a damn, however. By 'wanker' number thirteen (Cantonese), Dom was giggling clearly on the recording. By 'wanker' number seventeen (Swedish), Dom could barely speak for laughing.

~~  
"Think he'll take her home?" Elijah asked Orlando, and Orlando snorted and choked on a swallow of his beer. Billy tried not to smile, and mostly succeeded. "What?" Elijah demanded, and the genuine lack of understanding on his face only made Orlando laugh harder.

"Doubtful," Billy opined sagely, since Orlando couldn't seem to speak for laughing. On the dance floor, Dom was grinding with the 'her' in question, and the flashing, pulsing lights threw his collarbones, slick with sweat, into sharp relief while Billy watched. He was very much enjoying the show, but he pulled his attention away from it and toward Elijah, who was giving Orlando an annoyed looked that caused his dark, elegant brows to pull together expressively.

"What?" Elijah demanded again, a little more forcefully, with just a hint of steel and Billy found it mildly interesting to speculate on what, exactly, that little steeliness would grow into as Elijah shed the boyhood that was still clinging to him.

"Elijah," Orlando said, slightly mocking. "Use your eyes. Dom is a cat." He paused to drink from his beer and to give Billy a wink, eyes amused. "He plays with women, but he stalks _men_."

Billy resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Orlando's metaphors. Elijah turned to Billy with his already enormous eyes even wider, questioning, and Billy was a little surprised to feel a whisper of heat directed toward Elijah. He didn't respond to that look, however. He wasn't really interested in confirming or denying Elijah's suspicions. After a minute, Elijah showed steel again and asked it plainly. "Dom's gay?"

Orlando let out a choked little laugh and Billy threw a glare in his direction. Orlando held out both palms, as if to ward off any further glares, and slid out of his chair. "Gonna just ... check," he laughed, and made off in the direction of the dance floor.

Well fuck. He absolutely refused to follow Orlando's progress with his eyes, or to give into the temptation to watch and see how successful Orlando would be at checking. There was no reason to practice self-torture.

"Bill," Elijah prompted, and there was even more audible steel, and it was visible now, too, in Elijah's eyes and in his spine and in his still hands. Billy welcomed the distraction.

"This isn't any of your business, you know," Billy said, but he already knew that wouldn't work. Elijah just looked at him, and he sighed. "I've never discussed it with Dom, Elijah," Billy said, which was more or less true. "I can't answer that question with any degree of certainty." That was not so much true.

But that was beside the point.

Elijah just continued to look at him, and Billy made a defeated gesture. "Fine. I'll tell you what I think, if you'll keep in mind that's all it is. What I think."

Elijah smiled, charming little bugger. "That's fair."

"Glad you approve," Billy remarked dryly. He took a swallow of his beer and sat back. He didn't look over at the dance floor. "I don't think there is any such thing as gay," he said truthfully.

Elijah's eyebrows shot toward the ceiling in patent disbelief. "Sir Ian ..." he began, but Billy held up a finger, and he shut his mouth obediently, though he gave Billy a narrow-eyed look. Steel. And another unexpected whisper of heat, and Billy knew better than to blame it on sexual frustration. He had that, of course, had it in spades since the incident at the beach, but this was something separate from that. This was different. Elijah's potential hadn't been something he had ever really thought about one way or the other, in spite of his phenomenal beauty. He found himself wondering if Elijah went explosive and volatile in bed, and as soon as it occurred to him, he was sure that Elijah did. Something in his eyes, something telling, and Billy thought Elijah would likely develop into someone Billy would like to know intimately in a few more years, when Elijah had grown into his sexuality and his steel.

He was different than Dom, more steel and less jagged, open wanting, but that could most certainly be equally rewarding. It was almost a shame Elijah was so young. Billy would bet heavily that Elijah had never been with a bloke, and the idea of teaching him what that could be, while definitely appealing, was enough to curb that heat, if not extinguish it entirely. One of the first rules was that you didn't seduce virgins. You didn't subject the inexperienced to that kind of intensity. It was the kind of thing that could ruin it for Elijah permanently, or seduce him so completely that he would be unable to do without it. Always better to let a person come to their own conclusions about things like this. Better to let time and experience reveal this kind of desire, because it could be hard to control, overwhelming, addictive.

"If you want to hear it, at least show me the courtesy of listening to the whole thing." Elijah's jaw firmed - he thought Billy was talking to him like he was a child, Billy saw; he wasn't, but Elijah _felt_ like a child, and that self-doubt skewed his perceptions somewhat - but he gave a nod of agreement. Billy continued. "I don't think there's any such thing as gay _or_ straight."

He had Elijah's full attention now, and the slightly sulky cock of his jaw had vanished. Billy was a little sad to see it go. It looked good on him. Elijah cocked his head and studied Billy intently. "You think everyone is bisexual?" he asked, and something about the way he said it made Billy think that Elijah might have considered the concept before.

"Something like that," Billy said. "I think there is a lot of space on the spectrum between gay and straight, and that most people fall somewhere in between them. Most people lean one way or the other, they prefer one gender or the other, but I don't think that precludes any attraction toward the opposite gender." He signaled to a passing waitress, and waited for his fresh beer before continuing. In the interim, he watched Elijah looking out onto the dance floor, but he didn't look himself. After staring for a few moments, Elijah turned his attention toward his beer, which he regarded thoughtfully for some time.

"So you think that somewhere out there is a woman Sir Ian would like enough - be physically attracted enough to, I mean - to ... what? Go straight?"

Billy accepted the fresh beer from the waitress and paid for it, including a generous tip. He twisted it open with one hand and wiped condensation from the bottle with the other. "You're thinking about it like it would change Ian in some way, 'Lijah. I'm telling you that I don't think it would. I don't think that at all." He took a drink, and found himself gazing toward the dance floor without intent. Orlando had joined Dom and his partner, and the three of them were a loose tangle of rhythmically moving limbs. Pretty. He turned back toward Elijah. "I think that there is a woman out there, several women probably, that Sir Ian would or does feel physically attracted to. Whether or not he chooses to act on that is another matter entirely. Any attraction that he might feel wouldn't change the fact that he prefers blokes, you understand." Billy was thinking of Cate. Cate was the kind of creature that any man or woman, regardless of alleged preference, had to feel something for, no matter how transitory. "You like girls, right?" he asked, and didn't crack a smile when Elijah nodded hurriedly. "You going to sit there and tell me you've never looked at Orlando and thought about . . . anything?"

Elijah's gaze flicked briefly to the dance floor, and he flushed pink. "It's not the same. I'm nineteen. I'm supposed to want to fuck anything that moves. Besides that, Orlando doesn't count."

Billy laughed, and Elijah's flush deepened. "Why wouldn't Orlando count?" he asked, and Elijah tried to stammer something out and couldn't manage it. "Ok, all right," Billy soothed. "Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that Orlando doesn't count. What about Dom? Does he count?"

Elijah looked baffled for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Dom counts."

"Ok, then," Billy said, turning to look back out on the dance floor. "Come over here. Sit next to me." He was peripherally aware of Elijah settling in the chair next to him and looking out on the dance floor. Billy scooted his chair closer to Elijah so that he could talk softly and still be heard. He didn't touch him. This was more in the nature of a demonstration, and he didn't want to make Elijah nervous.

The song had slowed to some kind of industrial grind with a heavy base backbeat that Billy could feel in his bones. Orlando, Dom, and the pretty little blonde with them had their arms slung around each other's waists and were grinding and writhing gorgeously. Billy approved (aesthetically speaking, anyhow) of the way one of Orlando's thighs was snugged comfortably between both of Dom's, but ignored the heat that it sparked in his belly, and said "She's a pretty thing, isn't she. In the sunlight, her hair would shine like gold." Elijah made a sound of low agreement, and turned to give Billy a puzzled little frown. Billy waved a hand back toward the dance floor. "Just look, and listen," he said, and Elijah turned back obediently. "She isn't wearing much, is she?" Billy said. "Little bitty skirt, tight legs. Wouldn't object to having those around my waist." He could see Elijah giving a little nod of appreciation from the corner of his eye. "She seems pretty impressed with Orlando, doesn't she? Not that that's surprising. He fucking knows how to move." As if on cue, Orlando's hands went up and he began to move in earnest. He was so beautiful it left Billy's mouth momentarily dry, and he drew on his beer deeply, and saw Elijah sipping at his own.

Orlando's lifted arms had exposed a smooth three inches of skin between his waistband and shirttail, and the tattoo on Orlando's belly shifted and rippled as he moved his hips. "Nice," Billy murmured.

"Orlando doesn't count," Elijah said again, sounding slightly uncomfortable, and Billy didn't smile, though it was a close thing. "He's too pretty to be a man."

"I remember," Billy said, and drank again. He had a nice little buzz on, and was enjoying this more than he probably should have been. Elijah was too funny. "Dom thinks so, too," Billy said, and Elijah turned his attention back to the dance floor again. Dom's button up was half open, and Billy could see welcome glimpses of his chest as he moved. "You'd think he'd have tan lines," Billy said, and he could almost sense Elijah's face wrinkling into a frown. "With the wetsuits, and all. You'd think his arms would be darker than his chest, but they aren't."

"Sun block," Elijah said, but he was looking, Billy could see him looking.

"Dom knows how to move, too," Billy said, and let himself look, let himself watch and burn a little, as Dom moved with Orlando and with the blonde, dividing his attention expertly between them while his hips jerked and his hands roamed, one on her hip and one on Orlando's exposed belly. "Not shy, is he," Billy said, and Elijah audibly swallowed beside him as Dom's hand crept up beneath Orlando's shirt, crept high enough that it pulled Orlando's shirt further up, exposing the bottoms of his ribs and leaving Dom's hand well within reach of Orlando's nipple. "Dom's not a bit shy," Billy said, and on the dance floor, Orlando's hand crept up Dom's thigh and beneath Dom's shirt to linger at the small of his back. Orlando pulled Dom a bit closer, casually (but deliberately, Billy was sure), and the two of them moved in unison for a few seconds, moved in a way that was clear and obvious and practiced, and they looked amazing together, they looked hot, and Elijah's breath stuttered beside him. Then Dom's arm hooked out (light gleamed on the leather around his wrist, and want clenched and twisted low in Billy's belly) and caught the girl around the waist and pulled her neatly in between them. It was the same, then, the same kind of movement, and Dom bent his head and kissed the girl seriously while Orlando's fingers slid along the small of Dom's back, fingertips just barely slipping beneath the waistband of Dom's low-slung jeans.

Simultaneously, he and Elijah turned back toward the table. Elijah's face was folded into a look of almost desperate concentration, and Billy felt guilty, suddenly. Elijah was too young for this. Or maybe not actually too young, maybe just not quite equipped to deal with it. It was a little amazing, a little weird, considering that he'd grown up in Hollywood, which was supposedly the world capital for the strange and perverse, but Elijah was sometimes distressingly innocent. Billy doubted very much that would still be true a few years from now. Elijah was strong enough, brave enough, to figure out what he wanted and pursue it seriously, and in a few years he would learn that he could stalk like Dom did and ooze sex like Orlando did, and it would be gorgeous on him, Billy was sure. But at the moment he was regarding his beer like it was something solid he could use to anchor himself against confusion, and Billy clearly remembered just exactly how that felt, though it had been long years ago for him. "It doesn't mean anything, you know," Billy said, and Elijah looked at him seriously, his eyes dark blue and solemn. "It really doesn't. It just means you're normal."

"It doesn't feel much like normal," Elijah said, and his lips quirked into a wry little smile. He took a drink of his beer and observed Billy over the bottle. "Orlando could probably go home with anyone here," he said when he set the bottle back on the table.

Billy smiled a little before he could stop himself, because Elijah was just too funny. "Elijah," he said, and met Elijah's eyes so that he would know that Billy was dead serious. " _You_ could probably go home with anyone here. Including Orlando." The kid really didn't know how beautiful he was.

Elijah blushed, and opened his mouth like he wanted to reply or deny, but then he didn't. He drank beer instead.

The silence was companionable, though, and Billy didn't feel the need to break it. Some time later, Elijah said: "Orlando swings toward girls, I think," and it was almost a question, like he was looking for confirmation from Billy.

It was more or less true, at least in the fact that Billy was fairly sure he took home more girls than boys (although he privately suspected that Orlando was as close to true bisexuality as you could really get, much like Billy himself), so Billy nodded.

"What about you?" Elijah asked, and then blushed deeply, and Billy was flattered.

"I," he said, "am an equal opportunity kind of bloke, 'Lijah." He did not look at Dom. He winked. "I want to shag everyone."

Elijah laughed, real and clear. "Greedy bastard," he agreed, and downed the rest of his beer in a series of long swallows that did interesting things to the smooth column of his pale throat. "So it just depends, then?" he asked when he was done, and Billy had looked carefully away from his neck. "Like, what kind of mood you're in? Chicken or beef for dinner?"

Billy snorted laughter, he couldn't help it, and after a wide-eyed moment during which Elijah visibly reviewed what he had just said, Elijah joined him.

"What's funny?" Orlando demanded from behind Billy, and they both turned to look at him. Dom was with him, and Orlando had his hand snugged into Dom's back pocket so that his low-riding jeans rode even lower, revealing a good bit of skin below the navel, since Dom's shirt was now hanging completely open. That skin made Billy's mouth water, and he choked down an urge to grab him, just jerk him over by his belt loops and bite down anywhere on that skin, and he could feel his jaw clenching. Dom's jeans were far too tight to conceal the fact that he was having a very good time. Billy looked away, looked deliberately into Orlando's face (and of course, Orlando was eyeing him speculatively, and wasn't it just a truly lovely fucking moment for Orlando to go all perceptive and thoughtful), and he could see Elijah beside him, eyes trained on Dom (and far too low for it to be Dom's face he was studying so intently), wide and unblinking. Billy sent a toe into Elijah's shin under the table, and saw Elijah gather himself and look away.

"Nothing," Elijah said, grinning agreeably, displaying so much flair and natural acting ability that Billy wanted to applaud. "Nothing that would make any sense without lengthy explanations, anyway. And possibly a flowchart." He laughed, and Billy laughed with him, the snarky little fuck.

"Right," Orlando said, and glanced over his shoulder toward the bar. The little blonde was standing there, shifting a little and watching Dom and Orlando with clear impatience. "We're just gonna ... ah ...."

"Split a chicken dinner," Elijah suggested, deadpan, and he probably could have pulled it off except Billy choked on a mouthful of beer and sent him into a fit of giggles.

Orlando just grinned at them in congenial bafflement, but Dom's grin suggested that he was on the same page with them, or close. He winked deliberately at Elijah, and drawled: "If that's the way it works out, yeah."

Dominic's perfect fucking instincts.

And Billy was just drunk enough to hear himself say: "Maybe she'll be splitting a steak dinner with one of them."

For a moment, Elijah's eyes went huge and round and shocked, and Billy thought that maybe, _maybe_ that was too graphic a mental picture for Elijah. He was only nineteen after all, and he might not really know quite what to do with the mental image of Dom and Orlando shagging, in any of the various permutations (though Billy was sure he knew how that usually worked out) of the act. But he wasn't homophobic, thank God, and the absurdity of the joke, probably in combination with the beer, hit him hard a moment later, and he nearly tumbled out of his chair in convulsions of mirth, choking on peals of laughter. Billy caught him one armed before he could hit the floor, and for a moment Elijah was pressed into his side, shaking with silent laughter, and Billy could smell his shampoo mixed with beer and the cigarette smoke that clung to him, and was less surprised at the heat that it evoked this time.

Dom laughed right along with him, and Orlando gave Billy a wink behind Dom's back. Billy grinned back, and tried not to give in to the impulse to visualize Orlando fucking Dominic fucking the blonde. Such a thing would surely cause intense discomfort below the belt that likely wouldn't relent for hours. He managed to succeed in preventing that visual, but another came, unbidden, himself over Dom, his wrists trapped in Billy's hands, Dom's body trapped between Billy's body and sun warmed sand. And fuck, that was going to screw him up for the rest of the night, and he damned well knew it. He pushed Elijah back into his seat before it became equally apparent to Elijah.

Dom picked that very moment to look over at him, and Billy couldn't quite conceal his want, couldn't quite keep his expression from going dark and feral. Dom's smile slid off his lips, and he sparked, sparked hard, face open and eyes smoky dark, Dom's body actually swayed a little, swayed toward Billy, and Billy clenched his hands around the edge of the table to keep them still, keep them obedient. "Bill," he murmured, and then looked surprised, surprised and baffled, that he had spoken at all.

Billy put the expression away, forced it away (and it didn't want to go), and gave Dom a smile that was real, if perhaps not quite as urgent as what it had replaced. "Go on, then," he said. "Have a good time with the ... chicken."

Beside him, Elijah dissolved into laughter again. Dom's eyes flickered to Elijah and softened a bit, and he smiled too. When he looked at Billy again, the smile stayed. "Get Elijah home, safe and sound," he said, very slightly insinuating.

Billy's smile broadened, became more true, more present. "No worries, mate. He's not my type."

"Hey!" Elijah objected, and sounded genuinely affronted. Then he snickered. So much for affronted.

Billy thought of the steel he'd seen flickering in and out of Elijah's eyes earlier, and reconsidered. "Not for a few years, anyhow," he amended, and Dom laughed, genuine and open and good.

Elijah squeaked some sort of protest (whether at being considered Billy's type or at being considered too young it was hard to tell), and Orlando leaned over and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Billy only likes boys after their voices break, 'Lijah," he teased. "Tough luck."

"Fucker!" Elijah exclaimed, and swung at him, but Orlando danced back, pulling Dom along with him, hand still firmly buried in Dom's back pocket.

They went, and Elijah looked after them with curiosity so open and guileless that it made him, for a moment, even more beautiful than Orlando. "Which do you think . . . " he began, and then decided not to verbalize the rest.

Billy, who knew both the question and the answer, decided to keep the information to himself.

~~~

"Billy," Dom murmured, shaking him gently, and Billy came awake quickly, immediately alert.

"What is it?" Billy asked, and took stock of his surroundings. He was sleeping in his own bed in his own flat, which was as it should be. It was still dark outside, but that didn't reveal much about the time, seeing as he always had to get up when it was still dark out anyhow. Dom wasn't supposed to be here, as far as Billy could recall, at least, he hadn't been here when Billy had gone to bed. Dom and Elijah both had keys to his flat, however, and this was not the first time he'd woken to find one of them here.

It was just the first time that one of them (Dom) had woken him up here.

Dom was in boxers and a t-shirt, and had clearly woken up in the recent past. His eyes were still all cloudy grey, like fog, and would brighten into something more like brushed steel as awareness crept up on him. His hair was snarled and spiked from sleep, restless sleep from the look of it, and there was a very clear purple-red bite mark on his left shoulder, just peeking out of the neck of his t-shirt. Billy could see the teeth marks set into the bruise.

"I came and slept on your couch," Dom said, gazing sleepily at Billy.

Billy glanced at the clock. It read 4: 20 a.m. His alarm would have awakened him in twenty minutes anyhow. He looked back at Dom, who seemed to be eyeing the bed with genuine longing. He thought about asking Dom why exactly he'd come and slept on his couch, and then decided not to. He sat up and was forced to adjust himself (a combination of morning wood and Dominic gazing at him with sleep heavy eyes) lest he fall out the fly of his boxers. He caught Dom looking, his eyes slightly brighter with interest. Billy let him look, stood up and stretched deliberately, in fact, to give him plenty of opportunity.

When he looked back, Dom was still looking. He met Billy's eyes without embarrassment. "Something you want?" Billy asked, cocking a brow at him.

Dominic flared up, eyes narrowing slightly, jaw clenching, lips curving into a smile that was not exactly a smile. Billy's body reacted predictably to it ( _Come on, Dominic, give_ , he thought), but he didn't move. Dom's eyes crawled down Billy's chest, slow and deliberate, and settled with tangible weight onto his erection, which was quite wide awake now, and had nothing at all to do with morning wood. They stayed there for long moments, slightly narrowed, and Dominic's tongue slid out, pinkquick, and wet his lips. _Oh holy God_ , Billy thought, and tightened further, tightened and felt sweat spring up on the back of his neck and at his temples. He utterly refused to let his gaze waver from Dom's face. He didn't want to see Dom's body reacting to him. He wasn't sure he could withstand the force of their combined want. Dom's eyes spider-crawled their way back to his face, and Dom regarded him seriously, thoughtfully for another handful of seconds that felt nearly eternal. "Maybe," he said eventually.

Billy wasn't surprised. Nevertheless, he felt a little like he'd been gut-punched. "You're thinking too much, Dominic," he said, and Dom just looked at him. "You have good instincts. You should trust them."

"Maybe," Dom said again.

Billy glanced at the clock. "If you fall asleep now, you can get seventeen minutes in an actual bed," he invited.

Dom grinned at him. "Thanks, mate," he said and flopped down onto Billy's bed and burrowed under the covers. Billy watched him pull leftover body heat around him and push his face into Billy's pillow.

While he showered, he thought about Dominic's instinct versus his intellect with something that approached amusement, but was actually a little too personal for that.

He kept his hands off his cock only with difficulty.

The knowledge that Dom was sleeping one room away in his bed did not help.

He knew when the phone rang that he wouldn't be able to get to it in time. Not unless whomever was on the other line was really persistent. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, hurriedly bunching it around his waist. He was still in the hall when he heard Dom talking.

"Yeah?" Dom said, and Billy paused to listen. "Yeah, he's in the shower." He could almost see Dom rubbing at his face, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. "Bollocks!" he exclaimed, but he didn't sound upset, more like inordinately pleased. "PJ shitting bricks, then?" He laughed quietly, and Billy understood there was some kind of problem on set, something that would upset the schedule, but that pleased Dom. Late start, then, probably. Or a free day due to weather. "Yeah, I'll tell him. What? No, Orli, you daft cunt. I slept on the couch. Oh, bugger off, will you?" He heard the phone clunk down.

When Billy nudged open the door, Dom was splayed on his back in Billy's bed with his hands thrown up over his head. His knuckles were brushing against the headboard. He thought about going to the bedside table and opening the drawer; taking out the leather cuffs and showing them to Dom. Seeing Dom's face shift and darken. Oh, so fucking tempting.

Instead, he said: "That was Orlando?" Dom cracked an eyelid and peered at him, and then both eyes opened as he took in Billy standing there, dripping, wearing nothing but a towel. He didn't say anything, and for long moments, they observed each other in silence. Billy recognized this as another one of those situations where wisdom was going to be lost by the wayside if he didn't do something. He turned and nabbed his robe off of the back of the door and shrugged it on. He belted it tightly before drawing the towel out from around his waist, and then used it to rub at his hair.

"Yeah," Dom said finally, then cleared his throat. "Yeah, Weta's fucked something up. No blue screens today, and PJ's just letting the lot of us off."

"Answer to your prayers," Billy said wryly.

"Yeah," Dom said. "I'll just ... let you have your bed." But he didn't move.

Billy sighed. "You're difficult. You're a difficult prick." Dom didn't say anything. "Move the fuck over, Dom."

Dom scooted to one side and still didn't say anything.

Billy shed his robe quickly, and closed his ears to Dom's murmured: "Oh, fuck."

He slid into bed next to Dominic, and didn't try to stop himself from pulling Dom to him, snugging him into the curve of Billy's body. "Go to sleep," he muttered into Dom's hair.

Dom let out a tiny, mirthless laugh. "Put some fucking clothes on," he muttered back. "Preferably about twelve layers."

"Fuck you, this is my bed. Go to sleep, Dommie."

"Wanker," Dom said, and Billy grinned.

~~~~~

Billy answered the phone this time, groped at the table until he found the damned thing, thumbed the button. "Oi," he said groggily. He peeled his eyelids open. It was faintly grey with predawn light in the bedroom.

"Bill?" Orlando said.

"No, the fucking Queen Mother. What do you bloody want, Orlando?"

Orlando laughed, unrepentant. "Just to warn you. We're working tomorrow to make up for this."

"Bugger," Billy said, with feeling, and glanced at the bedside clock. 5:45 a.m. "You couldn't bloody well wait until later in the day to deliver this sterling bit of news?" he snapped.

"Well, I could have," Orlando admitted, laughter lurking in his mock-serious tone. "But I wanted to see if Dom would answer your phone again."

"Fuck you, Orlando," Billy said, and hung up on him. He fumbled the phone back onto the bedside table, missed, heard it thunk to the floor, and decided it didn't matter. Dominic's hand was resting on his naked thigh and Dominic's breath was ghosting across his chest. Very little mattered aside from that.

"Orli," Dom muttered against his chest, "should be drawn and quartered." He shifted, snugged himself more comfortably under Billy's arm, and threw a thigh up over both of Billy's thighs. He made soft, contented mmphing sounds against Billy's chest for a little while, and Billy heard him drop back into sleep, breathing deeply, open-mouthed.

Not much ever truly surprised him. There were a lot of reasons for this, not least of which was that Billy was one of those people who expected anything to happen at nearly any time. It was just the nature of the universe. If you went through life expecting pretty much anything, it didn't usually let you down. It was always _something_ , after all. So, while things happened every day that Billy found faintly surprising, in an - _oh, look at that, ha!_ \- kind of way, not much in life ever caught him flat footed.

Not since his parents had died.

But he wasn't prepared to feel the sudden, crushing need that blossomed like poisonous flowers in his chest, wasn't prepared for it to ache, suddenly, as if he had some kind of mortal, bleeding wound that he'd only just become aware of.

It had nothing to do with Dominic tucked up against him in only his boxers and t-shirt, breathing open mouthed against his chest. Nothing to do with it, and everything to do with it.

He had seen this, he had known it, but he hadn't understood it. And he had been wrong, dead wrong, thinking that he was safe from hurting because of it, that by avoiding the intimacy of sex, casual or otherwise, he could avoid the pain of just not having what he so badly wanted. Vastly incorrect judgement call, that, another thing that Billy wasn't used to.

Because maybe this was worse, the feeling of almost having it, of holding Dom while he slept (though Billy had slept sprawled out with Dom in many places, on more occasions than he could easily count). Now, though, Dominic was snugged comfortably against him in his own bed, trusting him because they were friends, and this was worse, this was much much worse than he had suspected it could be. And Dom had believed him when Billy had told him that nothing was different, that it was somehow possible for that to be true.

Billy couldn't breath for a moment, couldn't get a breath past the blockage in his throat and the tightness in his chest, and beside him Dom groaned softly and shifted and pressed his face tighter to Billy's ribs. After a few long minutes - during which Billy did nothing but concentrate fiercely on breathing, slow and even, so as to ease Dominic back into restful sleep - Dom settled.

Something bleak and aching had taken up residence in Billy's chest, in the meantime, and Billy rather expected it to hang around for a while. It would become, he suspected, rather like an old friend. Or more like a beloved enemy, a thing that you hate and despise but cannot let go. And he didn't really want to let go, anyway. Not yet. Not while there was time.

And Dominic could never know this. He could never know that Billy had lied to him, no matter that he hadn't known it to be a lie at the time. He could never know that right here, during this tiny slice of time, Billy understood what it meant, that there was no difference in his mind between mates and lovers. Not with Dominic.

He knew Dom, and Dom wouldn't be able to stand against that. Dom would come to him because he couldn't stand the thought of Billy hurting, come to him because he was Billy's closest friend, and he wouldn't understand that Billy couldn't accept that.

He refused to be Dominic's obligation.

He wished he had never touched Dominic on the beach with the sun on them and Dom's skin tasting like the ocean.

Dominic could never know this.

~~~

"Bill," Orlando called, jogging to catch up with him, bow still in hand, the silky gold of his Legolas hair positively glowing in the sun. Billy stopped and waited for him, digging his hands deeply into his jacket pockets and mentally summoning all his reserves of patience. It was possible that it was nothing more than Orlando wanting to invite him out with them, pubbing or dancing or driving down the coast over the upcoming three day weekend in search of one of Orlando's death-defying diversions. It could be that, but Billy was betting it wasn't.

If it were any of those things, Orlando or one of the others would have called. Billy never went anywhere before he went home and showered away as much of Pippin as possible, and they all knew that. So there wouldn't be any hurry, if it were any of those things. So it probably wasn't, which meant it was probably something Orlando thought of as 'serious'. Orlando was sometimes very trying when he was 'serious'.

"Orlando," Billy said by way of greeting, and rubbed at the back of his neck. There was no glue there, he could feel nothing but clean skin and downy hair, but it still felt like there was glue, itched like there was glue. Dammit. He hated glue. He hated the fact that he had been Pippinized for nearly ten hours today, and hadn't seen film at all. Waste of bloody time, and he was sincerely hoping that Orlando wasn't going to choose this moment to go all deep and unusual on him. He wasn't in the mood.

"Yeah, uh ... ," Orlando said, and shifted a little from foot to foot. "Yeah, there was something I wanted to ... ah ... ask about."

 _Shite,_ Billy thought, and repressed the urge to sigh deeply. _Go away, Orlando. I don't want to deal with one of your undeniably attractive, but simultaneously annoying, perceptive moments._

Sadly, Billy's mind-control powers seemed to be somewhat lacking today.

"It's about Dom," Orlando said, and Billy just looked at him.

Of course it was about Dom. Anything else would be too easy.

Orlando shifted again, and made an odd, expansive gesture with his bow that Billy nearly had to duck away from. "I was just wondering ... uh ..."

"Oh for God's sake, Orlando. What?" Billy didn't bother to hide his irritation. Orlando was immune to it anyway.

"Why aren't you fucking Dom?" Orlando said, and then looked slightly triumphant, like he'd accomplished something grand with the utterance of those syllables.

 _Because it's easier for him to fuck **you** _ , Billy thought, and then was disgusted at himself for that bit of snide temper, even only in his mind. And whether it was true or not (Billy suspected it was very true, indeed), it wasn't fair. He had no right to expect anything else from either of them. He had no claims. "How do you know I'm _not_ fucking Dom?" he managed in what sounded like a decent flippant tone to him.

Orlando just looked at him. With his blue contact lenses in, Billy couldn't really read Orlando's emotional forecast, and that was just more annoying. Not only was it Orlando in the throes of one of his unpredictable fits of solemn assessment, but it was Orlando as _Legolas_ , and thus disguised and practically unreadable during said fit. Just exactly what he didn't need to deal with right now.

Some time in the past, it might have made Billy consider fucking him against the side of the nearby makeup trailer. Right at that moment, in point of fact, Billy really just wanted him to bugger off. Why did Orlando have to pick the worst possible times to lay aside his super-twit facade?

"Why don't you run along and commune with nature or something like a good little elf," he said, because it was ever so slightly nicer than: _Bugger off, Orlando._

Orlando, who clearly didn't know how to quit while he was ahead, said: "He would, you know. If you asked."

Billy sighed, and rubbed at his face with one hand while the other clamped around his keys in his jacket pocket, like that hand was preparing for a quick getaway, if the possibility presented itself. Billy could almost see himself bolting, off like a shot to the parking lot with Orlando racing after him, bow in hand, Legolas hair streaming behind him like a banner. He could do that thing you always saw in movies, jump and slide across the hood of his car to the driver's side, where his ever-prepared key-clenching hand could make short work of the locks, and away he'd go. He could watch Orlando shaking a frustrated fist at him in the rearview. "Why the hell even bring it up?" he demanded instead.

For a moment, Orlando looked a little puzzled, more Orlando and less Legolas, even with the too-blue eyes and pale makeup and the golden fall of hair. "Because," he said simply. "I love you, and I love Dom. And you look at him like you want to eat him alive, Bill. And _he_ looks at _you_ like he wants you to. But you're not fucking _anyone_ , and Dom's still walking out of clubs with people whose names he won't remember in the morning."

"Don't," Billy said, and could feel it wanting to be a snarl instead of just the flat, careful tone he was struggling to maintain. "Don't talk about him like he's ... like he's fucking half of New Zealand. You know that isn't true. Not any more than _you_ are."

Orlando's face softened even further, and Billy was beginning to feel like a real arse for biting at him, but he didn't seem to be able to wall off the roiling irritation in his belly, irritation that was quickly approaching the level of anger. "I didn't mean it like that, Bill. I know he isn't." He looked at Billy for long moments, concern clear and present in his eyes, even behind the contacts. For some reason, the concern only irritated Billy further, and he jammed his clenched fists into his jacket pockets and heard the leather of the coat creak and complain at the tension he was putting on it. "I want to help," Orlando said, just a trace of a smile on his lips, and gestured at Billy's coat, like that meant something. "You're getting awfully touchy, Billy."

Billy made a concentrated effort to unfist his hands. "I'm having a bad day," he muttered defensively, and that was true enough. The fact that Orlando was right about him being touchy did nothing to diffuse his tension, however. It did lessen his irritation with Orlando, though. Very slightly.

"I think you're underestimating him," Orlando said gently, and Billy's eyes snapped to Orlando's face, trying to gauge what was there, while marveling inwardly at the amazing gift Orlando had just displayed, of being able to soothe Billy's irritation one moment, and then increase it exponentially the next.

"I am not," he stated emphatically, "underestimating Dominic."

"I just think you maybe should know," Orlando said (and it was clear to Billy that Orlando wasn't really listening to him, or Orlando would understand that there was nothing he needed to know about Dom that he didn't know already). "He's . . . well I don't know if he's a sub, exactly, but it's certainly the kind of thing he ..."

"That's enough," Billy interrupted, and the snarl potential was fully realized this time. "There is nothing I need to know about Dom that you can tell me, Orlando."

"You aren't listening ... " Orlando began, but Billy interrupted him again.

"No. You aren't listening. Shut the fuck up for a minute and try it." Orlando took a startled step back, and looked for a moment like he might flee. Billy didn't give him the chance. "I know what Dominic is, I know exactly what he is, and he is very much aware of that fact. As far as fucking him is concerned, that has not happened, it might _never_ fucking happen, and I'm not any fucking happier about that than you are, you interfering little twat. As hard as it might be for you to grasp the concept, Orlando, fucking is not the biggest matter on my mind, as concerns Dominic. That is _not_ all I want from Dominic."

And shite. He had just said that right out loud.

For a few silent seconds, Orlando either didn't understand or didn't want to understand. Then his face opened wide in surprise, his lips forming a silent "oh" but not actually uttering anything resembling sound.

"Quite," Billy agreed, and was suddenly aware that they were not the only people in the immediate vicinity. He doubted anyone had been close enough to actually hear what they had been saying, but they would have definitely seen the exchange, and could not have missed the fact that it had been heated.

"Does Dom know?" Orlando finally asked, and Billy wondered idly how important the elf really was for the rest of filming. The guys at Weta were bloody geniuses. Maybe they could just ... pencil him in.

 _For months_ , Billy thought, _he's known for months, but he is still fucking **you** , Orlando, so just bugger off like a good lad, because I don't want to feel this way about you, and it's better, it's easier not to, if you're not standing right in front of me with your goddamned cockney accent and your pretty fucking face _.

He sighed.

"This is none of your business," Billy said, which was what he should have said in the first place, should have just said, 'Bugger off, Orlando, none of your business,' and walked away. Too late for that now. Orlando looked like he was going to ask another question - one Billy was utterly sure he would not want to answer - and Billy wondered if his telekinetic abilities would work any better than his mind-control powers had worked earlier. Maybe he could use them to make Orlando smack himself in the face with his own bow. Instead, he said: "Bugger off, Orlando, will you?"

For a wonder, Orlando did.

~~

The phone rang the first time while he was still in the shower. Billy ignored it and finished showering without even the slightest urge to hurry.

He couldn't say exactly whom it was, but he could guess what it was about. That he'd argued with Orlando outside the makeup trailer would be all over the bloody set by now, and that would have been one of his well-meaning cast mates wanting to know what they could do to help. And wanting to know what it was all about, of course.

"Buggers," he muttered aloud as he dried off and pulled on fresh jeans. He didn't bother with a shirt. The flat had two temperatures, which Billy tended to think about in terms of whether or not his bollocks were trying to crawl up inside his body seeking warmth. Right now they weren't, and he wasn't planning on going anywhere tonight - not in the mood he was in - so fuck the shirt.

He was making tea when the phone rang again. He seriously considered not answering it. He didn't feel like either explaining himself or soothing anyone's worries.

But then he did, because he really didn't want them to worry.

It was Viggo.

"You fought with the elf," Viggo drawled, without bothering to utter any kind of greeting.

Billy sighed mentally. "And?"

"Wondered if you wanted to tell me about it."

At least Viggo was honest.

"Not even a wee bit," he said truthfully.

"Okay," Viggo said, completely unfazed. "See you later, then."

He hung up, thus proving unequivocally that Men were smarter than Elves.

~~

Billy was on the couch with a book when Elijah called. He also didn't bother with a greeting.

"Let me in," he said.

"In where?" Billy asked, genuinely perplexed.

"In your house, asshole. I'm outside, and it's fucking cold."

Billy went to the door and flicked aside the curtain. Yes, there was Elijah, smoking and shivering in the corridor with his mobile glued to his ear. "Why didn't you knock?" Billy asked, unlocking the door. He opened it, and Elijah thumbed the mobile off.

"I wanted you to know it was me," he said. His cheeks were flushed pink with the cold, and he pushed past Billy into the entryway. "Fuck, it's hot as hell in here." He began stripping off his jacket and the jumper underneath it in a complicated tangle of clothing. Billy dragged the jacket off him when it became clear that Elijah had knotted himself up irreparably by trying to remove both items at once.

"It works better if you unbutton your coat first, 'Lijah," he remarked, slightly exasperated, but mostly amused.

Elijah gave him a wide and unrepentant grin. "Whatever," he agreed. "I wanted you to know it was me. I thought if you thought it was Orlando, you might not answer the door."

Billy didn't bother trying to play dumb. Elijah was young, but he had his moments of uncanny perception and shockingly successful manipulation just as much as Orlando did. "I'm not telling you about it," he said flatly, and hung Elijah's coat on the rack.

Elijah tossed his jumper onto the couch and then plopped himself down on top of it. "Okay," he agreed, in what Billy was sure was merely an attempt to distract him from not wanting to talk about it by seeming to not want to hear about it. Elijah smoothed his t-shirt down and folded his legs up underneath him, and then commenced to just look at Billy and grin.

"What are you doing here, Elijah?" Billy asked warily. He realized the situation was ridiculous, standing across the coffee table from Elijah and regarding him like he was some kind of a danger, but he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Came to cheer you up," Elijah announced, still grinning like he meant it. "Don't want to know, not going to ask, promise."

Billy thought about that for a moment. If Elijah said he wouldn't ask, he meant it. He was honest like that. Elijah just didn't like people to be upset. It was like it disturbed his karma or something, if the people around him were uptight. "All right. Tea?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Elijah agreed, still grinning. Like he was hoping it was a contagious expression. Billy went to fix the tea.

Billy was rarely thrown into a state of full-on irritation like he had been that afternoon, and was not really used to Elijah turning his cheering powers on him. He didn't usually need it. He tended to stay fairly content most of the time. He'd seen Elijah do it to Bean, however, seen him do it to Viggo and Liv. He'd even seen him do it to Dom, when Dom had been badly homesick. Elijah and Orlando had practically tag-teamed that little production, and it had been both funny and warming to watch. Between the two of them, they hadn't given Dom time to miss England. Dom and Orlando had fallen into bed together right around then, the first time, and Billy guessed it had probably been a matter of comfort for Dom. Dom missed England. Orlando was English (and bloody gorgeous, of course).

He'd never wished to be English before, and he found it disquieting, what with all his dead Scottish ancestors England was responsible for.

When he brought Elijah's tea out, complete with a plate of biscuits (let it never be said that he deliberately thwarted his guest's attempts at cheering), he found Elijah asleep on his couch.

He snorted and set the tea and biscuits on the table. Some cheering attempt that had been.

He fetched his book and settled on the other end of the couch to continue reading.

Some minutes later, Elijah nudged the book out of his hands and burrowed persistently until he was tucked up under Billy's arm, his legs splayed over Billy's lap. He blinked sleepily into Billy's face for a moment, and then sighed and went back to sleep.

Billy wanted to laugh, but that might wake Elijah. He wanted his book, but it was now laying on the floor, and if he tried for it, it would definitely wake Elijah.

So Billy just sat there with Elijah's breath dampening his chest with exhaled condensation, and considered the fact that Elijah sleeping curled up around and over him felt a bit like having a lapful of exceptionally adorable, exceptionally lovable kittens.

Kittens, he suspected, were soothing.

At least while sleeping.

Billy had half dozed off as well when Elijah began squirming sometime later. "Your chest hair," Elijah said right up against the hair in question, "is tickling me."

Billy moved his arm and Elijah half sat up, rubbing at his cheek, which was reddened with warmth from resting against Billy's chest. His eyes were heavy and cloudy with sleep. "It's soft," he said vaguely.

"Your cheek?" Billy asked.

"No, your chest hair," Elijah said, like it was the stupidest question Billy had ever asked. Then he yawned hugely. He leaned back into Billy and wound his arms around him, hugging him tightly for a moment. "I'm sorry you're having a shitty day, Bill," he said softly.

Billy, who had nearly forgotten he was having a shitty day - which was easy to do, he supposed, since he had a lapful of warm, affectionate Elijah - hugged him back and dropped a kiss onto his forehead. "Actually, 'Lijah," he said, smiling when Elijah tilted his head back to look at him. "It's looking up."

Elijah smiled, too.

He left a little while later, and he had kept his promise not to ask.

Billy thought that Elijah's instincts might be nearly as good as Dom's.

He also thought that Hobbit's were smarter than Elves, too. But he'd already known that. This just confirmed it.

~~

He was in the kitchen washing up when he heard his front door open and bang shut.

That would be Dom, then. Process of elimination. Only Dom and Elijah had keys, and Elijah had already been here. Also, Elijah would never have considered using his key. Elijah had very strict ideas about propriety, oddly enough, and using his key to force himself on Billy while Billy was in a bad mood would have violated them.

Dom, of course, probably hadn't even taken propriety into consideration.

When Dom didn't come into the kitchen, Billy finished rinsing the saucer he was washing and set it in the dish drainer before going out to find out why.

Dom was sitting on his couch turning Elijah's jumper over and over in his hands. His face was a stormcloud.

"You could have knocked," Billy said. The contentment supplied by Elijah was already fading back into the roiling bad temper which had been present before Elijah had come.

"You had a fight with Orli," Dom said flatly. His eyes were trained on the jumper in his hands. Billy didn't bother to confirm or deny that. It wasn't necessary. He could see Dom working himself up into a rant, and he had no real plans to interrupt it with silly things like facts or reasoning. "About me?" he demanded.

"I believe your name was mentioned," Billy admitted calmly. Dom's face darkened, and his hands tugged at Elijah's jumper like they meant to unravel it. He was studiously _not_ looking at Billy, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"You ... you don't have any right to do that, Bill," Dom grated out, tugging even more furiously at the jumper. If he kept that up, Elijah wasn't going to be able to wear it anymore. It would be all stretched out. "What I do or don't do with Orlando isn't any of your bloody business."

"Orlando approached me, Dom. What you do or do not do with Orlando was never brought up." His voice was harsher than he wanted it to be, flatter and more dismissive, but he went on anyway. "We argued, you were mentioned, but we did not argue because you're fucking him, Dom. I would never do that. I'm fully aware that I don't have that right."

For a moment, Dom said nothing. He looked oddly ... disarmed. His hands twisted at the jumper viciously. "Then what?" he asked eventually, and finally looked up at Billy. His eyes stuttered from Billy's face to his chest, and then dipped back down to the jumper in his hands. He was no longer twisting it, just looking at it.

"That's none of _your_ business," Billy said. "We argued, but it wasn't _over_ you, Dom. It wasn't even really _about_ you, per se. You just happened to be a part of it." The whole part of it, but that didn't matter. It really was none of his business, and Billy had no intention of telling Dominic that Orlando had managed to irritate Billy into admitting how he felt about Dom to Orlando. If Orlando wasn't going to tell him (and thank God, it didn't seem like he had - maybe Elves weren't quite as stupid as Billy had previously considered them to be), then Billy certainly wasn't going to tell him.

Then Dom said: "Where is Elijah?"

 _Eh?_ Billy thought, but answered: "He left an hour or so ago. Home, I suppose."

Dom stood up, dropping the jumper on the floor as he did. Billy would have objected to that, but then Dom did something that truly shocked him into utter speechlessness. He stepped over the coffee table, standing practically right on top of Billy, grabbed his shoulders and pushed his face into Billy's neck. And inhaled deeply.

 _Eh?_ Billy thought again.

And Dom hissed: "I can smell him all over you."

And once again, for the space of several long seconds, the only response Billy could come up with was: _Eh?_

By the time he'd thought of anything to say, Dom had stalked out of the flat, slamming the door with wall-rattling force behind him.

Billy was quick, it was something he knew about himself and had never had reason to doubt, but it still took him several long seconds to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Elijah's jumper. His chest. Dom's eyes on first one, and then the other.

 _"I can smell him all over you."_

And it really wasn't funny. It wasn't. And it was completely mistaken, taken wildly out of context. And _not_ funny. He was having a hard time imagining how it had even happened, really, considering Dominic's sharp and nearly infallible instincts. Really not funny.

Even so, Billy found himself first smiling (possibly a little dazedly), and then actually laughing out loud.

Dom was jealous.

Dominic was jealous of Elijah.

It felt more like relief than amusement.

~~

It wasn't Billy's favorite pub, but it was among them. The place had real atmosphere, large tables, and very good beer on tap.

Even with the large tables, they wouldn't all fit around one. The bartender had made no objections when Viggo and Billy had dragged two of them together and scooted enough chairs and benches close to accommodate all of them. Billy had Elijah on one side of him and Viggo on the other (Orlando had regarded this arrangement with narrowed, questioning eyes, which Billy had ignored), and Viggo occasionally looked over at Billy and grinned a disconcertingly large and drunken grin. Viggo didn't usually go for getting completely pissed, and to be honest, Billy was rather enjoying the effect it had on the man.

It wasn't unusual for Viggo to occasionally utter weirdly inappropriate and insightful comments at the unlikeliest of times, but tonight he was going for a new record. So far, the most surprising of them had been: "I think Orlando would suck your cock if he had to, to make sure you weren't mad at him any more."

Billy had replied with: "No, that won't be necessary, I assure you. There isn't any point to being mad at Orlando for being Orlando." And Viggo had laughed as if that were the wittiest thing he'd ever heard.

At the other end of the table, Dom had been observing him intently all night.

Billy was not drunk, for a variety of reasons. The foremost was the half-formed intention he had of taking someone home tonight. It didn't really matter who. It was something he was considering more in the nature of a necessary release of tension than as an actual desired sexual encounter, which was annoying in and of itself. What made it worse, though was that he couldn't quite be sure of his own motivations behind the intention. He wasn't the type of bloke that had to question himself, mostly, and he didn't like it.

It didn't change the fact that he wasn't sure if the desire to pick up some random stranger and take out his sexual frustrations on him or her was rooted in the simple desire to be able to relax for a change, or the desire to see if Dominic would react to it.

He didn't want it to be that, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't.

"Hey, Bill," Elijah said, and poked him in the ribs to get his attention. Billy turned toward him, and Elijah was frowning, chewing at his bottom lip. "What's up with Dommie? He looks like he's pissed at the world."

His glance skipped to Dom before he could stop it, and Dom definitely looked tense and tight and unnaturally solemn. He looked away before Dom could catch his gaze.

"We had a bit of a row last night," Billy said, and his hands clenched around his glass at the laughable understatement of that. "Nothing to worry over, he'll settle himself."

"If he 'had a bit of a row' with you, why is he mad at me?" Elijah asked. Elijah was drunk enough that it sounded cutting rather than hurt, but Billy wasn't fooled. Elijah hated people to be mad at him.

He thought about the complications of trying to explain the situation to inebriated Elijah, and decided it wasn't something he wanted to attempt. "He's not mad at you, 'Lijah," he assured him. He was fairly sure that was true.

"Well he's fucking glaring at me," Elijah sulked, and downed about half of his glass of beer in several long swallows. He stood up, swaying slightly on his feet, but not enough to be in any true danger of falling over. "I've gotta piss," he announced loudly, and several people cheered. He staggered off in the direction of the loo.

Billy concentrated part of his attention on his pint and part of it on a brunette at the bar that he suspected he could show all manner of things to, if he should decide at some point that it was allowable for him to take her home with him. And damn Dominic for flashing hot jealousy at him like that. Maybe it was slightly funny, maybe it was slightly encouraging, but it was still irritating as fuck, as while Dom had no more claims on him than he had on Dom (and knowing the situation certainly hadn't kept Dom from fucking around as he chose), Billy didn't think he could actually do anything if he thought it would hurt Dom. The fucker. If he did decide to pull the brunette, he doubted he would do it before Dom left for the night. Although maybe that wouldn't matter either, considering how information traveled on the set, part gossip like wildfire and part simple osmosis. You couldn't spend so much time around such a select group of people without learning practically everything there was to know about what they did and who they did it with.

He was distracted by Viggo, who leaned into him and muttered: "I think they're either going to suck face or start swinging," and when Billy followed his gaze, he saw that Dom and Elijah were engaged in a heated discussion just outside the door that lead to the loo. Elijah had his back to the wall, but he was clearly neither cowed nor cornered there. He was talking to Dominic, whatever he was saying was quick and tense, and his eyes were narrowed into furious slits. He had one hand pressed against Dom's shoulder, and occasionally punctuated what he was saying with a very small shove, like an exclamation point.

Billy could only see Dom's face in profile, but he could tell that Dom was listening intently, either unaware or unbothered by Elijah's punctuating shoves, and that his eyes were also narrowed, his brows drawn down into a frown. When Dom said something in reply, it was slower, more considered, and Elijah's eyes popped open, big and vibrantly blue, even from this distance, and then narrowed again on Dom's face.

He leaned into Dom so that less than a hands width separated their faces, and said something short and fast, something that made Dom withdraw slightly, and Elijah's hand on his shoulder twisted into a fist holding his shirt and pulled him back.

And Billy was irritated, and didn't doubt that he was in some way the object of the discussion. _What the fuck are you doing, Dominic?_ he thought, and felt some mild satisfaction at seeing Elijah shake Dom a little with the hand that was still fisted into Dom's shirt.

Then Elijah said something else, something short again, and pulled Dom into a brief, fierce hug, and Dom acquiesced to it and returned it just as fiercely. Elijah slid out from between Dom and the wall and stalked over to the bar, bristling with energy, and Billy watched, both amused and appalled to see Elijah zeroing in on the brunette who had drawn Billy's attention, and to see her returning Elijah's regard with equal interest.

 _Ha!_ he thought, unsure whether to laugh or just throw up his hands at the utter fucking ridiculousness of the whole situation.

Dom was standing where Elijah had left him, hadn't moved except to angle forward slightly to lean his forehead against the wall, as though the confrontation had left him in need of rest or thought or both.

Billy turned back to his pint, intending to try to work out what just happened, and saw that at some point Viggo had vacated his seat and Orlando had taken up residence in it.

And Orlando was giving him that look, the one Billy was coming to truly despise, that indicated clearly that he had something to say.

"Bugger off, Orlando," Billy said, no nonsense, and Orlando just gave him a tight, unamused little smile. "No, really. Just get lost. Not now. Whatever it is, I don't want to hear about it."

Orlando didn't, of course.

Billy might have really let him have it then, but he became aware of Dom's presence behind him, a low grade hum of energy that he had become so used to being aware of and associating with Dom that he just now realized how odd it was to have that sort of sensory awareness of someone. He turned toward Dom just as Dom sank into the empty seat that Elijah had earlier vacated, and the look on Dom's face banished Orlando from his mind entirely.

This was Dominic at his most turbulent and open, with everything raw and exposed on his face and in his eyes, and Billy's body responded to it by leaning in closer, closing in, and Dom didn't back away from him.

"Elijah says I'm 'a demented fucking dumbass'," Dom said, mimicking Elijah's clipped American accent perfectly. He smiled a little, and added: "He also said that if you had asked him, he might have. I don't think he has the vaguest idea of what it would entail, with you, of course. Still, it's the thought that counts, innit?"

It should have surprised him, but he just absorbed it and filed it away for later consideration. His focus was too intensely on Dominic for the information to have much of an impression on him at that moment. Dom picked up Billy's pint and took a long drink, head tilted back, eyes closed, throat working, and Billy recognized the fortifying of courage that was happening in front of his eyes, recognized it and wondered exactly how this was going to work out for him.

Because it was about to work out, he could see that. One way or the other. Dom was gearing up, Dom was getting ready to make decisions and avowals, and tension sung in Billy's veins, stronger than alcohol or sex or probably even heroin. The rest of the pub faded into vague background scenery, like an impressionist stage setting, and he turned his whole body toward Dom, his whole attention, and just waited for whatever was coming.

Dom set the glass aside and regarded him solemnly. "Is this going to change things between us, Bill? Will we laugh together, will we be friends? Will this take over everything else and ... subvert it somehow? Is everything going to become a reflection of what we do in bed, Bill, because I have to tell you, I don't want that. I want you, but I don't want that." And there was that fear again, the fear Billy had glimpsed on the beach, glimpsed and _misunderstood_.

And he felt like a total fucking idiot for not realizing that _this_ was what all the waiting had been about. Not about sexual adventurousness, not about the inability to commit himself, but _this_ , the fear of losing one thing to gain another, the fear of having to give up his best mate if he wanted more than that from Billy. He was a goddamned idiot, he _hated_ that he hadn't seen it, hadn't recognized it for what it really was, but he was smiling too, and he could feel that it was huge and dazzling and relieved.

Because this he could deal with. This he could address with total confidence, total honesty, he could do it with this big, ridiculous smile on his face and there wasn't the slightest chance that he might be wrong about this.

"Dom, you fucking wanker," he murmured, leaning into Dom and sliding a hand around the back of his neck. There was a tiny smile on Dom's face, like he was reflecting Billy's wide grin helplessly, and Dom let Billy pull him in, pull him close until Dom's eyes were near enough to fucking drown in. "You impossible wanker. That will _never_ change. Why would I even _want_ this if that would change? If it were just lust, just sex ... Dom, I could do that with anyone." He was aware that things had gone very quiet and still around them, that there were others not only present, but close enough to listen if they wanted to, but that didn't matter. Let them hear. "You daft prick. I want the rest _because_ we laugh together, _because_ you're my best mate. I want it because of who you are and because of who we are together. The rest of it ... it's just ... icing."

"Icing?" Dom repeated, and licked at his lips, which were curled into a smile that was alternating between wide and silly and small and secretive. There was relief in his eyes, more importantly there was _belief_ in his eyes, and eddies of smoky lust were beginning to curl in them as well.

Billy could feel the deep ache in his chest subsiding, shrinking, he could feel anxiety and despair and tension dissipating, and he could feel the energy that was replacing it, energy fomented by the small, secretive smile hovering at the corners of Dominic's lips and swirling in his eyes. "Really good icing," he allowed softly, silky voiced and weirdly gentle. "Satisfying icing."

"Yeah?" Dominic said, smile flickering into a smirk, and Billy used his free hand to grab the edge of Dom's chair, bringing the whole thing closer, scooting Dom forward until Billy's knee was pressed snugly against the warmth of Dom's groin. Billy exerted pressure, careful pressure, until Dom was squirming a little, enough pressure to both hurt and heat him, and observed the effects from up close and personal, watched Dom's eyes melt into stormy desire, watched as his chest pulled in short and oddly incomplete breaths.

"Yeah," Billy assured him, and when Dom tilted his head back slightly, lips parted, Billy kissed him without a thought to where they were and who was watching, kissed him with all of the heat and force he had been repressing, using the hand on the back of Dom's neck to steady him and pushing his knee even harder between Dom's thighs, drinking in his hitching sighs of pained wanting, licking them from Dom's lips and biting them from Dom's tongue while Dom's hands clenched around one forearm and the biceps of Billy's other arm.

Dom's mouth was as heated and responsive as Billy had always known it would be, Dom's tongue was slick and skilled and did not flinch away from Billy's teeth when he used them. He could feel himself heating and hardening in response to this, response to kisses and admissions and success and triumph, and the knowledge that he was in a public place surrounded by the people he worked with was very, very distant until someone tapped him firmly on the shoulder.

For a brief, irrational moment, he thought about ignoring it. Then Dom groaned a little into his mouth, softly, briefly, but enough to remind Billy that unless he wanted them both to experience amused teasing on set far more painfully embarrassing than anything previously experienced or suspected, they really needed to stop before Dom started begging. He gave in to the temptation to deliver a stinging bite to Dom's lower lip (and Dom murmured appreciatively deep in his throat, causing Billy to harden past what could conceivably be hidden) before pulling slowly back, steadying Dom carefully until something resembling awareness surfaced in his eyes again.

With awareness came a slight tensing, although Dom didn't look away from Billy to take in the expressions of his other cast mates. He also did not blush, and Billy wondered with urgent, heated interest what it would take to make Dominic feel shame.

That he was allowed to try to find out, now, that he had been given the right to seek out the things that would make Dom blush and sweat and whimper and come, sent another jolt of lust through him, lust with teeth and claws and smoke grey eyes. He rose to his feet, jerking Dom up with him, and Dom murmured: "Fuck yeah," but still looked a little too dazed to actually start moving. He had both hands wrapped around Billy's forearms and was swaying just slightly, and staring hungrily into Billy's face. Billy managed to thrust away the momentarily intense urge to shove Dom onto his back on the table, spilling drinks into laps and sending glasses to the floor to shatter with tinkling, destructive beauty, and pin him there with his hands and his hips and his mouth. But he didn't move either, because his mind was pushing him in only one direction, the direction that would push Dom's arse back against the edge of the table so Billy could snug his hips up against Dom's hips, the direction that would make Dom use the hands still circling Billy's forearms to brace himself against the table while Billy pushed at him, pushed forward with hips, and sank teeth into the visible pulse in Dom's neck (he wanted to feel that, touch it with lips and fingertips, press against it and know how it felt to be Dom's blood, pounding away through Dom's body), the direction that pushed hard and clenching fingertips into the muscles in Dom's thighs, drawing them up, pushing them apart . . .

He didn't move, because he couldn't quite conceive of any other manner in which he _could_ move, and he still had enough sense to know he couldn't yet move in the direction in which his mind was pushing him. Not here. He just needed a few seconds, a few seconds to extract his attention from Dominic, and then they would go, they would get home (somehow, Billy wasn't entirely sure how he'd manage it, but he would, by God, manage it, even if he had to make Dom walk behind him where Billy couldn't see him and be so ridiculously distracted), and then . . . _fuck yeah_.

"I'll take them home," Orlando said from behind them, to which Billy mentally snapped: _The **fuck** you will!_ but didn't actually verbally reply to because Elijah beat him to it.

"I'm leaving anyhow," he said smoothly, and eased a hand around Dom's hip to guide him out of Billy's grasp and into a stumbling walk toward the end of the table. The brunette, Billy saw, was with him, smiling a little at Dom (a smile of complete understanding) and Billy felt slightly sorry for her, as he seriously doubted that Elijah would be able to give her what she was wanting.

That was enough of a distraction to get him moving, and he smiled slightly at Elijah's careful manipulation of Dominic, Elijah's hand on Dom's hip, grounding him and guiding him. It was bizarre to think of Elijah as a potential dominant, bizarre when Billy could also clearly see in him signs of what Elijah would be like on the bottom, with wide open eyes and pink, gasping lips. He would ask Dominic later, he would remember to ask him what he thought Elijah was going to grow into. If anyone could predict it, Dom could.

Then he forgot about it entirely as he rounded the end of the table and Dominic brushed deliberately up against him, pushing his crotch against Billy's hand for just an instant, but long enough for Billy to get a clear idea of the steely-hardness and the baking heat of him. Still distant, like background music in a movie, he heard someone utter a shocked little gasp (Liv, he thought, but didn't care enough to worry overly about it) at Dom's hips blatantly arching forward to grind the bulge in his jeans against Billy's palm.

"Fucker," he growled, and Dominic smirked unrepentantly as he followed Elijah and the brunette toward the doors.

No goddamned shame, Dominic had no goddamned shame, and Billy could think of several excellent ways to test the boundaries of that, but that was for later, that was for when they became comfortable and familiar and he could see past his own lust more clearly, clearly enough to know what Dominic wanted and needed, and the things Dominic did not yet know he wanted and needed. _Oh, fuck yeah_.

~~

No matter how smooth he had come across in the pub, Elijah was far too drunk to drive.

Billy drove, with the brunette - Elise - in the front seat with him, and he kept his eyes deliberately away from the rearview. He could feel Dom's eyes on him like they were hooked and dragging bloody, stinging furrows into his flesh, and he couldn't afford the distraction of Dominic teasing him (which he would be, shameless prick) from the back seat.

Elijah smacked Dom's hand, once, when he bent his body to reach into the front of the car, and Billy couldn't help but laugh at Dom's indignant yelp and Elijah's grumble about distracting the driver and getting them all killed.

"He can't drive," Billy murmured to Elise when they pulled up in front of Billy's building.

"I can," she assured him, and she had a velvety voice and a fetching New Zealand accent. "I haven't had much to drink."

Billy nodded while Elijah and Dom abandoned the backseat. He got out of the car.

"Hey," Dom was saying to Elijah. "Thanks, you know? For the ... " he gestured vaguely, a little grin curling his lips, "... the arse-chewing."

Elijah grinned back, broad and bright, and momentarily dissipating that crackling of dark energy he'd been surrounded by in the pub. "Course," he said simply, eyes amused and openly pleased.

Then Elijah was turning his bright and beautiful grin on Billy. "Enjoy your steak dinner, Bill," he said, and winked outrageously.

Billy choked on startled laughter, hearing Dom laughing in nearly the same way, and Elijah laughed, too, throwing his head back to release it into the sky.

 _Snarky little fucker_ , Billy thought admiringly, as Elijah circled round to climb into the passenger side. He gave them a little wave as he ducked into the car, and was gone a moment later.

~~

They had managed to actually reach the door to Billy's flat before Dom's reckless need derailed them.

It was hardly standard behavior for him, that a single, fleeting and exploratory graze of fingertips across the denim restraining Billy's erection should result in such a burst of immediate need that Billy utterly disregarded the fact that they were in a public corridor. He caught Dom by the waistband of his jeans to jam him hard back against the wall. It was just as unusual that the slight widening of grey eyes and shaky intake of indrawn breath should be enough to make Billy lunge forward and bite down hard (Dominic mewled surprise, and Billy thought: _yes, fucking yes, make those sounds for me now that I can have them!_ ), just at that tender place where neck and shoulder joined, right where the shifting muscle under his mouth, between his teeth, tasted the sweetest. It was unprecedented that Billy's hands were already be jerking at the buttons on Dom's low-riders while he growled into Dom's neck and inhaled the heady scent of Dom's skin.

But this was already so far outside the realm of normal behavior for Billy that he hardly noticed. This didn't even have a nodding acquaintance with normal, because this was Dom, Dominic under his hands, under his mouth, under his control, and he had waited and wanted too long for anything as trivial as polite propriety to stop him. His fucking neighbors could form a queue and sell tickets, if they liked. Billy didn't give a damn.

Dom's hips arched forward and out, and Dom was groaning (and he had known Dom would be a talker, that whatever entered his head would fall out of his mouth in sexy, need-ridden gasps, because Dom was - praise God - completely without shame in the best fucking way), "Yes, fuck yes, Bill, hurry . . . fuck!"

The buttons separated easily under Billy's fingers, and he jerked the denim down past Dom's hips, spilling Dom out into his waiting hand (no pants, and Billy was completely unsurprised by this). Billy wrapped his hand around Dom and squeezed, biting down (and tasting sweat, Dominic's fucking sweat) harder at the juncture of Dom's neck and shoulder at the same time. Dom barked out a little cry that held equal parts lust and pain, and thrust into Billy's hand, hips twisting. Billy could hear Dom's hands scrabbling at the wall behind him, scrabbling for purchase, and his mind and body clenched and coiled with the desire to hear Dom come, hear him come undone for Billy, force him to come right here, where anyone could see, anyone could witness.

"I'm going to find out, Dominic," he growled into Dom's neck, biting and licking, tasting Dom's skin and the salt of sweat while his hand worked demandingly on Dom's cock and Dom's hips worked in perfect, instinctive counterpoint to Billy's rhythm. He drew back, licking the taste of Dominic from his lips and braced a forearm across Dom's chest - feeling the bite of Dom's sharp and sexy collarbones against his skin - to hold him, so he could see Dom's face, watch him and make Dom see _him._ "Going to find out what makes you blush and cringe."

Dom's eyes were glittering silver-grey, lips parted and forming silent words - Billy could read 'fuck' and 'yes' and his own name - and his chest was heaving against the pressure of Billy's forearm. His cock felt like straining silk, blood-hot and alive in Billy's hand, and he tightened his grip further to watch Dom's eyes widen in _lustpainwant_. Oh, and he was gorgeous, the most fucking beautiful thing Billy had ever seen, but this wasn't all there was, it wasn't enough, Billy could see this, could sense it the way he could sense Dominic himself whenever he was close, and he murmured with silky malice: "Not this, though, Dominic, you don't care who sees you here, like this, with your jeans around your thighs and your cock in my hand. Don't care who comes along to see you gasping and jerking your fucking hips and helpless and unveiled, you really don't give a fuck, do you," - and Dom was shaking his head, eyes burning and pleading and Billy could feel the smile on his face, and knew it for what it was, cruel, playful, and Dom was regarding the expression with a combination of hunger and dread, and his voice dropped into a gentle, taunting whisper - "don't give a damn as long as I don't stop."

And he did stop, and Dom uttered a low, pained moan, his hips jerking forward to push his cock through Billy's tight fist. Billy thrust a knee between Dom's thighs, using the material of the jeans still bunched there to force Dom's hips back, pin them to the wall and still his movement. "No no no no," Dom whispered (beautiful, needy, breathless), "please no. . . Bill, Billy . . . " Billy leaned in to lick at Dom's throat, lick at that shivering pulsepoint, and Dominic was trembling and quivering, his hips still attempting vain movement against Billy's restraining knee. Billy pushed that knee up slightly, nudging at Dom's balls, and Dom's breath caught in his throat, strangled gasp, and his head fell back against the wall with a little thump.

Billy bit down on that fluttering, vulnerable pulsepoint once, just hard enough to make Dom gasp, make his lips part sweetly, and then he took Dominic's mouth with all the skill and experience he had at his disposal, took it and opened it with his teeth and his tongue, bit down on Dominic's lips to hear him whine - _yes, open, give it to me_ \- and licked at Dom's tongue, which seemed to want to fight in one moment, and then lap reverently in the next. He was waiting now, just anticipating that moment when Dom understood that he wasn't going to continue, wasn't going to tighten his hand around Dom's cock and continue pumping until Dom shuddered and came apart, he was awaiting it with intense and devoted attention, because he thought Dom would show then, show everything, that need and that furious rebellion that Billy had already glimpsed and been so fucking taken with. He was looking forward to that, looking forward to taking that and breaking it apart, destroying it, ripping it to shreds until all that was left was the real Dominic, that deeply compelling, pliant Dominic that would say anything, do anything, that would beg him with everything he had, eyes, mouth, body, hands, arse, and cock. "Come on," he hissed against Dominic's lips, into his mouth. "Come on, Dominic. Give." Dom twisted and uttered a little half-whine, half-growl, and his hands left off scrabbling at the wall to grasp at Billy instead, grasp at Billy's hips to try and pull him forward, pull him into greater contact.

He was gasping obscenities into Billy's mouth, cursing him with one breath and begging him with the next. Billy was just drinking it, drinking it in and loving it and reveling in the feel of it, drinking Dominic like hundred year old Scotch, savoring him even as Dominic burned him. "Fucker, you fucker," Dominic groaned, "do it, fucking do it, teasing goddamned bastard . . . just do it . . . let me come, damn you . . . please . . . bastard _**bastard**_ . . . please, Billy, please, Jesus, please . . . "

"No," Billy refused, sleek and calculating, and watched Dominic's eyes widen and then narrow, watched his lips tighten and curl into a sneer. Billy tightened his grip on Dominic's cock, tightened it deliberately and pushed his knee up roughly against his balls, and Dominic tensed and twisted and snarled deep in his chest. "Yeah, good," Billy murmured, coaxing. "Give it."

He was ready when Dom surged forward, ready to parry, stepping smoothly to one side and letting Dom's momentum in combination with Billy's hand on his cock force him to stagger forward. He jerked Dom around - using Dominic's cock like a fucking handle - and used his whole body to push Dominic against the door and hold him there, pin him while Dom thrummed with want and spit with fury. Billy pressed forward, arched and, ground his still-trapped cock against Dom's arse, crushing Dom's cock between Dom's own body and the smooth, cool wood of the door. Dom grunted softly and stilled, palms pressed against the door at shoulder height. "Sonofawhore" he sneered, and Billy rewarded that tone with a forceful jerk of his hips, grinding Dom's cock harder against the door, and Dom groaned a little.

"Getting us inside," Billy said, and dug in Dom's pockets, which were caught somewhere around his thighs, for keys.

"Bastard, you bastard," Dom breathed. "Manipulative, teasing fuck."

Billy laughed, and bit gently at Dom's shoulder while his hand located the correct key on Dominic's key ring and snugged it into the lock. "Poor Dommie, all bent out of shape because he didn't get a handjob in the hall," he teased, and Dominic growled a strangled curse and pushed back demandingly. Billy ground forward again obligingly, this time not letting up until Dominic gave him a soft, desperate mewl. "Does it hurt, Dommie?" he whispered directly into Dom's ear, and he knew it did, knew Dom's cock would be aching, crushed and grating against the door.

"Yes," Dom gasped, "yes, don't stop," and then choked out a cry when Billy shoved his hips forward again, as hard as he could fucking manage, to the point where it hurt him, too, but that was nothing to the feeling of Dom shuddering tense against him and squirming helplessly, nothing to the way his mind reeled and glittered with sharp and deadly need at Dominic's voice, Dominic fucking asking for it.

He growled as he struggled with the doorknob, and had to stop and steady himself, had to work to ignore Dom's bare arse pressed against his groin and Dom's emphatic, snarling sounds of need. Once he managed that, the key turned easily and the knob clicked as the lock disengaged. He turned the knob and opened the door, thrusting Dom ahead of him inside, shoving hard enough to send him stumbling to his knees, as his jeans were still around his thighs, restricting his movement. He shut the door and locked it behind him before turning to look at Dom again, fully aware that if he didn't get that out of the way, he would soon forget all about it.

Dom had turned back toward Billy, but hadn't risen, was still on his knees on the cold, hard tile of the entryway, jeans still tangled around his thighs and his cock jutting out from his body at a serious, this-fucking-means-business sort of angle. Billy couldn't really decide what he wanted to look at more: Dominic's face - in which hungry lust and violent frustration and desperate appeal were waging an interesting battle - or Dominic's cock - which displayed only one thing (want, need), but displayed it beautifully, with gentle jerking motion (in time with Dominic's heartbeat) and with blood-flushed, tight skin, and with the glistening shine of moisture gathering just at the tip.

Either option drove him close to the edge of whatever tenuous control he was still maintaining, so he looked instead at the angles of Dom's hipbones, half concealed still by the hem of his t-shirt, and then at the decadent, evocative clenching of the big muscles in Dominic's thighs. The shirt had to go, he wanted to see Dom's chest (ribs, collarbones, nipples). "Lose the shirt," he said, and watched Dom's face as his urge to bite back warred briefly with his need to get fucked. Billy wasn't surprised at which one triumphed, and Dom jerked the t-shirt up over his head and flung it away. "It's possible," Billy said quietly and sincerely, "that you're even more bloody gorgeous than I had imagined."

"Bill," Dom said, soft and genuine, deep and hoarse. "Billy, now? Please?"

He wanted, God knew, he fucking _wanted_ , and he could feel Dom staring at him, but Dom wasn't making a single fucking move (and Dominic on his knees with his jeans around his thighs and his cock blood-red and seeping, what could be prettier, what could be more painfully, enticingly sinful?), and in Billy's mind he could already feel Dom, tense and tight and writhing, could already hear Dom's cries, hear his gasps tearing free from that mouth like sharp things, things that were all edges, impossible to keep back and painful to release. He could see himself shoving Dom against the door from the inside this time, shoving him there and taking him like that with his jeans still binding his thighs together and his cock jammed up against the punishing wood. And Dom would like that, he would fucking _love_ it, and so would Billy. Oh, fuck yeah, he would.

"Dominic," he said, growled, sneered, grated out from between teeth that were clenched tight together while the muscles in his jaw jumped and spasmed with the effort of forcing out words, coherent words, and even still the only thing that actually emerged was: "Dominic. I _want_ . . . " while his mind reeled off the list of wants that he couldn't verbalize, couldn't actually say in spite of how badly he wanted to do it. ( _Want to fuck you, I want to break you, I want to hear you scream, Dominic, I want you to buck and scream and struggle because you can't fucking help it even though you don't want to get away, I want you so tight and straining underneath me that I can't fucking see, I want your mouth open and your eyes slammed shut and your face blood red and your cock jammed up against my belly, I want your words mangled and helpless, want you helpless, want you begging, want you begging **me** with strangled words and broken cries and trembling body, want you to want that, want you to want me, want you to want me to give you that, make you scream when you come, Dommie, promise you, make you scream and come and want to die with my cock inside you..._ ) Dominic looking up at him - Dominic on his knees with his hips cocked forward and his face still in transition somewhere between defiance and entreaty - Dominic divested him of words, Dominic was too beautiful, too fucking effortlessly sensual, and Billy could only look, watch, see him while his mind conjured up every one of the thousand ways he had imagined fucking Dominic, taking him, breaking him, driving him into raw and excruciating need.

He had never been so close to being out of control, and it might have been an interesting experience, except that he so desperately wanted that control here, so desperately needed it. He was losing it with Dominic when what he needed from Dominic more than he needed skin and blood and bone and sinew and sweat was for Dom it respond to _his_ control, to bend to it, submit to it, need it like Billy needed to have it.

Dom smoldered up at him for long moments, still and silent, and Billy could feel himself sliding inexorably toward the edge of control, the monster-fucking cliff of his own need, which was high and sheer and strengthened by Dominic kneeling on his fucking floor. Then: "I know what you want," Dom breathed, his eyes dropping half closed, spitting sparks at Billy from behind his lashes. "I'm not blind, and I'm not a novice. You don't have to fucking 'handle with care,' Billy." That was almost a sneer.

"No?" Billy said, and he could feel his face relaxing into a familiar expression as his command over himself re-exerted itself, leaving a kind of certainty within the storm of his need and lust and want, and thought: _Fuck yeah, praise God and Dominic's **perfect** fucking instincts._

"No," Dom echoed, eyes going narrow and challenging instead of half-lidded and sultry. His lips curled into an edged smile. His chin went up a little, cocky and impetuous - Billy guessed he could thank instinct for Dominic's strength as well, that wicked combination of defiance and compliance that made Billy ignite, made him twist and spiral down into the black places of his own soul, made him want nothing more than to take Dominic there with him - and his hips slid forward slightly as well, deliberately offering up that cock, shameless fucker, and shadows hugged the fine slope of his hipbone like caresses. "Come on," he whispered. Insolent little smirk. "Try me." And: _I dare you_ , screamed from every line of his body.

"We'll fucking see, won't we," Billy whispered, and let himself fall right off the edge, let restraint dissolve into the steady, crackling thrum of desire that his own instincts knew how to shape and govern.

He felt himself coil, felt his _need_ coil, and he lunged for Dom, pushing and growling, until Dom was pressed to the cool, hard tile of the entryway, flat on his back, his hands on Dom's chest, fingers curled up and digging into the tops of Dom's shoulders, and Dom was just looking up at him, eyes like smoke, his hands wrapped lightly around Billy's tense forearms. Billy paused, looking, memorizing the sight of Dom beneath him, spread out and open under his hands, under his body. He shifted, dragged one hand up to Dom's throat while the other held him pinned, held him _down_ , pressed his fingers to that spot, and felt Dom's pulse thundering. "Give," he demanded, but softly.

And Dominic grinned fiercely up at him, eyes snapping heat and challenge. "Take," he bit back, and Billy's fingers clenched on his shoulders, bit into muscle, and Dom snarled and jerked, but refused to back down, glared up at Billy with that reckless, temararious defiance that Billy wanted to destroy and Dom _wanted_ him to destroy.

"Fine," he snarled, and dipped down to kiss him, to _take_ , and Dominic fought him with his lips and tongue and teeth even as he allowed Billy to gather up his wrists and pin them together across his belly. Billy bit at Dom's lower lip, bit once hard to hear Dom groan, then lapped at it, and murmured: "Fine," again. He moved down Dom's body with his mouth, tasted Dom's neck again with gentle lips and tongue, and then Dom's collarbones - a particular favorite of his - and he bit at them viciously enough that Dom actually jerked away from his mouth, and Billy had to bear down on Dom's wrists to still him. "Give, then," he invited, and smiled at Dominic, letting dark amusement color his voice.

"Fuck you, Bill," Dom sneered, oh so fucking pretty, and: "Suck my cock."

"Yeah?" Billy asked, and cocked a brow at Dom, smiling a little wider. Dom's eyes narrowed further, suspicious, and Billy moved down until he was straddling Dom's thighs. "Since you asked so fucking nicely, Dominic," Billy murmured, and kept his eyes on Dom's face just long enough to watch his eyes go wide with surprise as Billy dipped down and tongued Dom's cock (oh and how fucking long had he wanted to taste him, how fucking long, because it felt like forever, it felt like he had been fucking _born_ wanting it) from base to head.

Dom hissed, and Billy twisted Dom's wrists so that they were crossed and Billy could handle them with one hand (he wished for, but had no intention of actually stopping to retrieve, the leather cuffs in the bedside table), freeing his other hand to lift Dom's cock to a better angle. Dom was making choked and disbelieving sounds in his throat, but those cut off abruptly as Billy went down on him all at once, taking in the heated length of him without any difficulty. It was good, beyond good and sliding toward perfect, salt and skin and musky precome, and when Dominic arched helplessly up into Billy's mouth, Billy let him, for the moment, opened and let him push in as far as he could, let him jerk his hips and push roughly, urgently into Billy's throat.

"Fuck fuck oh fuck," Dom grated out, and Billy growled around his cock, prompting another trembling string of profanity. Dom arched up further, pushing, pushing, arse up off the ground, and Billy forced him down roughly, twisting and firming his grip on Dom's wrists, forcing him back to the ground and releasing his cock in a heated, teeth-scraping slide that wrenched contentious moans from Dom's throat. "Don't," he barked, "don't fucking stop, don't!"

"Fucking demanding for a sub, aren't you, Dommie?" Billy jeered softly, and Dom tried to bite out some kind of response, but Billy disarmed him neatly with his tongue on Dominic's balls, and Dom twisted under his hands and his mouth, twisted and shuddered like he was fucking dying, and Billy's cock was just not going to be able to take much more of this neglect. He kept his mouth on Dominic's balls while he worked one handed to get Dom's jeans off (bit down lightly, once, to hear Dom's strangled, fervent cry), and thank God he had some experience at peeling clothing off of sweatslick writhing bodies, because Dominic was not making it any easier. "Hold the fuck still, Dominic," he commanded, and for a wonder, Dom gave it a go, stilling and even lifting his legs so that Billy could free them from his jeans.

As soon as the jeans were gone Dom's thighs slid apart, and Billy rumbled approval against Dom's balls and listened to Dom whine something unintelligible and needy. Billy licked sweat off Dominic's thighs, the salty tang filling his mouth, and Dominic's skin tasted better than anything ever had, he could see the taste of it becoming a serious and debilitating addiction, and Dom was tense and trembling, his wrists were jerking in Billy's hand, and Billy could feel him opening, unfolding as he whispered: "Please, oh Jesus' sake, please, Bill, can't you just... just fuck me, Christ, just fuck me, touch me... you're killing me, Billy, please... "

The thought of lube skittered through his mind and he dismissed it. It was too fucking far, and he was confident that Dominic could do without. He was still fully dressed, and fuck that, too, fuck everything except Dominic's face, which he rose up to study, flushed and frantic with need, Dominic's eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open and sweet and vulnerable and enticing. Dom's hips stuttered up, trying for contact, and Billy let them this time - adjusted his grip on Dom's wrists, used both hands to draw them up over his head and press them to the floor - let Dom arch up and grind ("please yes please yes please yes God," fell from Dominic's parted lips and into Billy's mind with the force of nuclear fucking detonation) against Billy, press his naked cock against the crotch of Billy jeans (and God, the heat of him, it seeped through the thick denim and mingled with Billy's own heat, mingled and it was like it was incendiary or something, it didn't just double heat or triple it, it increased it to an unimaginable degree) and this this this was what he wanted from Dominic, this was Dominic helplessly enthralled, luxuriously, gorgeously willing.

"Please, fuck, please," Dominic hissed, and Billy slid two fingers into his mouth to just shut him up for a second (and that nearly backfired, because Dom's mouth was hot and sly and skilled, his tongue was quick and seeking and curled like wet silk around his fingers until Billy was nearly unable to think about anything but getting that mouth around his cock), shut him up so he could get his goddamned jeans open with his other hand, the backs of his knuckles brushing against the sleek heat of Dominic's cock, which was still jerking up and into him (and Dom was fucking doing that on purpose, little bastard, sliding his cock along the back of Billy's hand and smearing him with a hot mix of sweat and precome, and Dom was goddamned well going to lick that off later). Finally Billy had to slide a knee up and pin that fucking cock to Dom's stomach to eliminate the distraction of it while he jerked his jeans open. Dom keened around Billy's fingers, keened while he forced himself hard enough against Billy's knee to guarantee friction-burn, and Billy took five seconds to just try to calm the hell down, because if he didn't, couldn't, this was going to be a new speed record, beating out even his own fifteen-year old virginal escapades. But there was just no way to do it, it wasn't possible, not with Dominic moaning and lapping at his fingers and disregarding all pain in favor of any tactile sensation Billy's knee could provide his needy cock.

And Billy's own cock wasn't in much better shape, he fucking _hurt_ with want, he _ached_ with it, and to hell with calm. If it was fast, then so be it, because they had all goddamned night didn't they? All fucking weekend, if it came to that, and looking at Dominic, he thought it very well could.

He drew his fingers out of Dominic's mouth (with some reluctance), and bent to kiss him instead, which was almost as fucking good, with Dom's tongue in his mouth and his lips under Billy's teeth, and Dominic whining prettily when Billy removed his knee from Dom's cock to use it to push Dom's thighs wider apart, open Dom up, give Billy some room to work as he slid wet fingers down Dom's body to stroke just behind Dominic's balls. He listened to Dom choke curses into his mouth ("fuck me fuck me, damn you, Bill, you cocksucker, you fucking prick") while he twisted up invitingly, pushing as well as he could against Billy's teasing fingers, and when Billy pushed them in, pushed them forward both at once, all the fucking way, Dom fucking screamed into his mouth, screamed and clamped down hard. Billy groaned (his cock jerked sympathetically and his balls tightened at the twisting knot of hard, hot desire in his belly) and pushed his tongue into Dominic's open mouth and his fingers into Dominic's tight body.

He pulled back and pushed again, twisting this time, twisting and finding what he was looking for, and Dom came up off the floor, screaming again into Billy's mouth and biting down hard on Billy's tongue, slamming his cock up against Billy's belly (and making a hell of a mess on Billy's shirt, he was certain) and straining fiercely. When he asked for it this time, it wasn't a whisper or a whimper or a gasp, it was a full-voiced, unashamed plea: "Your cock, your fucking cock, Bill, fucking give it to me, please, Jesus Goddamned Christ, please just fuck me!"

And he wasn't about to say no to that. He paused long enough to get rid of his shirt, it was just too fucking hot to keep it, and it was only about to get hotter, but the jeans could fucking wait, they weren't in his way much, and he didn't have time to fuck with them.

"Dominic," he murmured, trying hard not to think about what he was about to do, how it was going to feel, how fucking necessary it was to do it as soon as humanly possible (and Dominic had his hands on his chest, thumbs pressed roughly against Billy's nipples while his knees dug into Billy's sides), "Dominic, Jesus Christ . . . " and Dominic shuddered as Billy lined up and brushed the head of his cock against his arse, shuddered and gave a deep, desperate groan, " Spit and precome, Dommie, can you fucking take it?" he breathed.

"Wrap it in fucking sandpaper if you want to, you smirking, Scottish fuck!" Dominic choked out, and Billy grinned and snarled and pushed hard and Dominic arched up to meet him with a single, shouted: "Fuck!"

 _Tightsweethot_ friction, and he was not going to last long, not even going to fucking attempt it. He wanted to see Dominic's face, wanted to drink that expression in, but he couldn't fucking open his eyes, it was too much, intense to the point of pain, it was blinding, it was everything he had wanted, he could die from this, he fucking wanted to, and when Dominic moved beneath him, low groaning whimpers spilling from his lips like wine, Billy reacted the only way he could, with force, driving into Dominic, hearing Dom's cries and his own low, painful groans blending, and he pushed Dom's hands up up over his head and pinned them hard, got his knees under him to thrust with everything he had, to be in, to feel Dominic writhing and wordless now, unformed sounds and half-voiced cries pushed from his mouth into Billy's, and he was - Oh God - so goddamned tight and perfect and hot as fresh blood, he was sleek and squirming, he was spitting broken need and splintered syllables into Billy's mouth like offerings, and Billy was taking them, tasting them, taking _him, Dominic, yes_ , and he was fucking _giving_ , Dominic was giving everything, finally, giving everything to him with his cries and his sweat-slick body and his sweet, open mouth.

He was waiting for it to plateau, to level, for that burning, twisting, overwhelming edge to slack, somehow, to leave him room for thought or for something, but it wasn't, it couldn't, and Dominic was pressing his cock into Billy's belly and moaning need into Billy's mouth. He wanted to hear Dominic come, he wanted to feel it around his cock as Dominic came undone, came apart, fragmented like Billy could feel himself fragmenting. He wanted words now, but there was no air for them and no time for them, and they were already understood anyway, so he let them lie and curled a hand around Dominic's need and drove urgently deeper with Dominic's hips lifting and countering ( _instinct, instinctive_ ) in time with his - no need for restraint, welcome ferocity - and when Dominic screamed his orgasm into Billy's mouth it felt like completion, like what he'd been waiting for forever and not just a few months, and Dominic twisted and tightened around him like nothing he had ever felt, and he couldn't hold back from that, Dominic's perfect giving, and he was coming and giving, too, giving more than he had understood was possible, giving it with his hand on Dominic's cock, slick with Dominic's come, and his tongue in Dominic's mouth wrapped around Dom's tongue, and his cock inside Dominic's body, jerking and spilling warmth, and Dominic's fingers were twined into his hair and around his fingers as he snarled and gasped and colors splintered into sparks into searing grey light behind his eyelids.

It was some time before he had the energy to open his eyes.

Dominic was looking slightly smug beneath him (but his eyes were still open, gentled, lucid) , lips quirked into some kind of cross between amusement and mockery. "Still got your jeans on, Billy," he pointed out, insufferably polite.

Billy groaned and rolled off of him to splay on his back on the tile. It felt like ice under the heated skin of his back, but moving onto the carpet would take too much effort. "Shut up, Dom," he said, also politely, and heard Dom chuckling, which coaxed his lips into a smile as well.

"I managed to get all of my clothes off, is all I'm saying," Dom pointed out.

" _You_ managed to get all your clothes off?" Billy demanded. "I seem to recall risking a kneecap to the face to get your jeans off."

"A sure sign that you had your face somewhere it shouldn't ought to have been," Dom announced solemnly.

"I'll keep that in mind," Billy smirked, and rolled onto his side to face Dom. He had his arms folded back behind his head and was smiling broadly at the ceiling.

"See that you do," he said, tone prim but face still soft and beaming. When Billy leaned in to kiss him, he could feel Dom's smile under his lips. "Wanker," Dom murmured, and Billy laughed into Dom's mouth, and could both hear and feel Dom laughing into his, too.


	2. Contentment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things are new, even the tiniest of glimpses seem precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and if was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

Dom is drowsing, but one of the things Billy has learned about Dom in the last few days is that nothing, nothing keeps Dom from experiencing everything. Dom is sweeping the pad of his thumb in long, leisurely arcs against the sharp angle of Billy's hipbone. Billy knows he is just experiencing it. Feeling it. Dom is more asleep than awake, but that doesn't stop him.

Dom does it all the time. When Billy wakes, Dom's fingers will be absorbing the shape of Billy's chin or the back of his knee, or the knots in his hair.

~~

The first few nights, Dom's roaming hands and curious lips had kept them from sleep. Every touch jolted Billy, sent messages of heat and need to mind and body, and there was no rest for either of them. The first few nights, they fell into exhausted slumber amidst sweat damp sheets, permeated with the scent of them both, only a bare hour or two before they had to be on the set.

Billy is only just beginning to be able to tell the difference between Dom's hands needing and Dom's hands experiencing.

It takes getting used to.

~~

Billy wakes with Dom's lips at the base of his neck, brushing lightly against the top of his spine. He doesn't move. Dom's tongue laps along the slight rise of a vertebrae beneath the skin, and heat builds low in Billy's belly, a pleasantly slow and gentle presence. It is there nearly every waking moment, now, and he's getting used to that, too.

When Dom finishes exploring (experiencing) that spot with his tongue, he slides his warm fingertips along the line of Billy's spine, making a tiny, humming sound of contentment that Billy echoes, smiling.


	3. Catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

 

## NEW ZEALAND

He awoke from a dream in which Billy was twisting a leather belt between his hands. "Have you ever been belt broken, Dominic?" dream-Billy had asked him, and then his hand had arced out, pale hand, dark leather, and the belt snaked across Dom's chest and curled around his ribs leaving a coiling trail of fiery pain across his skin. He awoke with a gasp, and sat straight up. He was immediately aware of two things.

The first was that he fucking hurt. His wrists burned, abraded by the leather Billy had wound round them earlier in the night. Or last night. He wasn't sure, wasn't sure of the time, and he felt groggy and still half-asleep. Sex hangover. His wrists hurt and his right shoulder throbbed with what felt like deep bruising. Billy's teeth. He smiled a little, and his cock (hard, of course, from the dream) jumped a little. There were smaller hurts, smaller bruises from Billy's hands, on his thighs and hips. He could feel the burn of abrasions around his ankles, as well, though the sting was less intense. He'd pulled harder at his hands.

Overall, he felt really fucking good.

The second was that he had to piss. Really had to piss. Urgently.

"All right, Dom?" Billy asked softly, and Dom turned to look at him. He was looking back through sleep-heavy eyes. Billy's eyes gleamed -- reflected light, not that uniquely 'Billy' look of craving that made Dom's insides into liquid and his outsides into steel. Still, Dom's cock throbbed and ached a little. Billy was too gorgeous.

Sometimes Dom felt like there had been some sort of mistake, like maybe it should have been Elijah or Orli sleeping next to Billy with Billy's hand gripped firmly around a hip. Not often -- he wasn't the type to undervalue himself. But he was also a realist, and both Orli and Elijah were more beautiful than Dom by far. And he had seen both of them watching Billy, at one time or another, just looking at him. And he could certainly fucking understand that.

Sometimes he thought there had been some kind of mistake, and then Billy would look at him, predatory and alert and tight and Dom would remember that Billy just wasn't the kind of bloke to make that sort of mistake.

"Got to piss," Dom said, and gave Billy a smile.

"By all means," Billy smirked, and Dom nudged him playfully on the thigh. It wasn't until he tried to actually swing his legs out of bed that he understood what Billy found so bloody amusing. "We didn't actually ever get round to getting rid of those," Billy laughed quietly. He sat up and moved down to take the bindings off of Dom's ankles.

"I can get 'em," Dom said, and Billy just waved him away. Dom let him, mostly just because he liked it when Billy took them off. He always rubbed gently at the tingling, leather-abraded skin, which hurt and felt just lovely at the same time. He hummed pleasure at Billy's hands on his ankles, and Billy chuckled.

"Touch whore," he said, and then grinned a little.

"So?" Dom said, and grinned back.

"Just saying," Billy replied, and leaned in to plant a light kiss on the bruise on Dom's shoulder.

Dom slid out of bed, stretching and scrunching his toes into the carpet. He ached pleasantly; a comforting all-over warmth, the bruises and scratches brighter sparks of heat in that overall comfort. He'd have to spend an hour on yoga in the morning, rather than thirty or forty-five minutes, to work most of the ache out. He didn't mind a bit.

He shuffled out the door and down the hall, amused that he was more familiar with sex-hangover lately than with actual hangover. Amused, but not displeased. At least sex-hangover didn't leave the floor unsteady under his feet. Or at least not as much.

~~

He heard the shower going, heard it and registered it on some level, but it didn't really occur to him that it was anything important. They'd all passed out at Billy's last night, so Orli or Elijah was in the shower. It was late for it. Or early, but...whatever. He'd pissed while someone or another was showering more times than he could count. Especially when they were staying in the trailers on set. You just had to. There wasn't time enough or room enough to do otherwise. He didn't think about the see-through nature of Billy's curtain -- though he was intimately familiar with it, Billy had a thing for watching him shower -- before he opened the door, didn't think of it at all until he opened it and had actually stepped inside, and saw that it was Elijah in the shower.

Which might or might not have stopped him, normally, as Elijah was very slightly shy.

He wouldn't have thought twice had it been Orli. He'd already seen every conceivable inch of Orli, and Orli wasn't shy anyhow.

But Billy's shower curtain was clear, and it wasn't so much that Elijah was naked (although that was by no means bad), as it was that Elijah had his fist around his cock and his head tipped down (water streamed through his hair and across his cheeks, gathered on the curve of his bottom lip; his pink tongue slid out and swiped it away) and one hand braced up against the wall. And that stopped him.

 _Nice_ , he thought, and for a moment that was the only thing in his head. That it was nice, pretty, hot. And then: _Whoops, fuck!_ Because Elijah would blow a gasket if he opened his eyes and saw Dom standing in the doorway. But then, again: _Very nice._

Because it was. It was. Very, very nice.

He wanted to move closer so he could see a bit more clearly, and recognized that as a totally inappropriate response. So he didn't, but he didn't move backward either, didn't leave. Because. Well. _Nice_.

Elijah was small, compact, just like both Dom and Billy, though he was more slender. More boy than man, still. But then, not really, Dom noticed, because how the hell could he not notice? Elijah's fist around his cock was the only thing really moving, and it sort of drew the eye, so to speak. And that wasn't a bit boyish. Not a bit.

 _Don't just stand there and stare, you wanker_ , he thought. _Don't_. But he didn't move, because Elijah's hand on his cock wasn't really the only thing moving. His back was moving a little, muscles bunching, shifting in time with the movements of his arm. His chest was heaving. His hips were moving very slightly, not pumping, but just a slight sympathetic motion created by the force of his fist on his cock. He was all white, smooth skin, and heat washed over Dom like the water washed over Elijah's skin, rivulets and floods in shifting, cunning channels.

Elijah's dark hair was darker under the water, and it clung to brow and temple. Dom wanted to lick it (he was distantly aware that he was licking his lips), taste it (it was soft, he knew it, he'd had his hands in Elijah's hair before, though never in the way he was thinking about just now), wet with water and probably a little salty in spite of that, because Elijah was clearly working pretty hard right now, was clearly putting quite a bit of effort into it. The phantom flavor of sweat prickled on Dom's tongue.

Elijah's eyes were closed, brow slightly furrowed ( _really fucking concentrating, inn'e_?), lips pale and slightly open. And moving. Speaking?

Elijah shifted, distracting him. His hips cocked slightly forward, head falling back so that the water from the shower head spattered his chest and the curved arc of his neck (god, so fucking pretty), and it was too easy to follow the stream of water downward, too easy to let his eyes slide down Elijah's chest (Jesus Christ) and onto the plane of his belly (faint, shadowed indent of navel), over the dusting of dark hair below.

Dom tried to stop himself there. He did. Really. But it didn't help, as such, because Elijah's hand kept pulling Elijah's cock up into Dom's frame of vision, and so it wasn't like he was so much looking at Elijah's cock as it was that he was being given brief and taunting glimpses of it ( _circumcised_? he wondered dumbly, _most Americans are, aren't they?_ ), clenched into the curve of Elijah's fist.

He felt slightly dizzy. He let his gaze skip downward in what felt like self defense, took in the tight, flexing muscles of Elijah's thighs and calves (cut off mid calf by the lip of the bathtub). And then his gaze wandered back up all of its own accord, until he was staring at Elijah's cock again, Elijah's fist working his cock (nice little twist going on there, white knuckles, rough, with force, yeah, Dom wasn't surprised at all by that) and wondering if he'd be able to see Elijah's balls, too, if he moved a step to the right.

And he wasn't entirely sure how long he stood there. Looking. Perving on Elijah. But then Elijah let out a soft, breathy groan, slightly high-pitched, and Dom thought: _Oh, fuck, get the fuck out, you_! He backed up hurriedly, eyes drawn back to Elijah's face (eyes still closed, thank God, brows drawn down, concentration, almost-pain, fucking lovely) and Elijah's lips were still moving.

The hiss of the shower was drowning out whatever Elijah was saying, and really, it was time to go, way past time to go, Dom shouldn't even be here at all (with Billy waiting for him in the bedroom), but he cocked his head slightly, hoping to hear more clearly at a different angle.

And he did. He did hear more clearly, and he felt his face go slack with surprise; his cock jerked fiercely (hard as fucking stone, he could feel his pulse in his cock), and the burn of desire spiraled through him almost painfully, heated and razor-sharp, just the way Dom liked it.

He couldn't quite remove himself until Elijah's hips jerked forward abruptly, once, and he grunted deep in his throat, one short, hard syllable falling like a stone from Elijah's parted lips (and Dom heard that, too, heard it clearly, and his mouth was dry as ash, but full of the taste of want, the kind of want normally reserved only for Billy). And Dom shut the door quickly, carefully, silently, before he could see the rest because... well, just fucking because.

~~

He made it back to the bedroom without being quite certain how (though not before a stop off in the loo just off the spare bedroom-cum-music room). Billy's bedroom - but it was _their_ bedroom, really, and had been for months. It was theirs, and that made him stop just outside the door to Billy's (their) bedroom with his hand on the knob, because he'd just spent maybe two full minutes watching Elijah in the shower, Elijah _wanking_ in the shower and his own reaction to that wasn't something he was entirely comfortable with. And he was more than a little nervous about Billy's reaction. Billy's reaction to his reaction. Billy's reaction to his erection?

He laughed nervously and tugged at his hair. There was no question that he would tell Billy. Dom wasn't interested in keeping dirty little secrets. It was just a matter of how.

 _Stupid wanker_ , he accused himself. _When has Billy ever given you the impression that he was a jealous or unreasonable bloke?_

Never, of course. He opened the door.

Billy was awake. It would have been too easy to find him curled up asleep. Dom joined him on the bed, curling a leg beneath himself and letting himself look at Billy for a moment. Hard lines and angles, shadows nestled strategically across expanses of warm skin, sheet wound around his hips, and yes, Billy made his teeth ache. He'd watched Elijah wank in the shower, and he'd liked it, yes, but Billy Billy made him want to tear off his own skin to get Billy deeper inside him.

Good. Okay, good, that was good.

"Elijah is wanking in your shower," he said casually, a little surprised to hear it come out like that, all at once, unhurried and calm.

Billy looked at him for a moment, a little smile curving his lips. "Did he see you?" he asked, and Dom was somehow not surprised that this should be the first question Billy asked. Dom shook his head. He was gnawing at the skin inside his lower lip, gnawing at a tiny, stinging cut Billy's teeth had left there. When he realized it, he made himself stop. Billy was still smiling, but his eyes were glittering. "Pretty?" he asked, and arched a brow.

 _Uh oh_ , Dom thought, but it wasn't dismay flaring up, tight and warm, in the pit of his belly. He knew that look too well to misinterpret. Billy was amused. Billy was playful. And uh oh, indeed, because Dom never stood a chance against Billy when he was feeling playful. "Yeah," he murmured, and wondered what Billy was thinking, what perilous thoughts were forming in that ruthless, clever brain.

Billy reached out casually and swiped his thumb across the head of Dom's cock. He didn't look away from Dom's face when he raised his thumb to his lips and lapped the precome off with slow, easy swipes of his tongue. The heat coiling in Dom's belly twisted hard and deep. He bit at his wounded lower lip and managed not to groan. "Very fucking pretty," he said instead.

Billy's smile widened slightly. He shifted and sat up, light and shadow playing tag across his chest and face. When his face moved into light again, there was that look, hungry and predatory, the look Dom loved, craved, lighting up Billy's eyes and darkening his features. "How pretty?" Billy asked, mellow tones, sweet roll of sound, only very slightly commanding, because Billy didn't bring out anything harder than that, anything harsher than that, unless Dom really needed it.

Dom almost always needed it. He needed it now, and if Billy was going to tease everything there was to know about the past few minutes out of him (and Billy was, Dom had no doubt of it, and Dom wanted to tell him anyhow, so it all worked out) then Dom was damned well going to make him _work_ for it.

"Y'know," he said, deliberately nonchalant, though he didn't feel the least bit casual. He felt hard and tight and wanting. "Nice. Nice to look at." Billy's eyes glittered, and Dom smirked at him. God, good, that was good. That look on Bill's face was so fucking good.

"Should've come and got me," Billy said smoothly, and okay, that was a surprise, and Billy's eyes narrowed at Dom's expression. "You don't think I'd have liked to see it?"

He hadn't, in fact. Hadn't even considered it, which was stupid really... stupid, because... Hell, he'd seen Elijah looking at Billy, seen it ever since that night in the pub when the chicken vs. beef joke had been coined, and he'd seen Billy looking at Elijah, too. Not looking at him quite the way he looked at Dom, not looking at him the way he occasionally looked at Orli, but looking and... considering Elijah. Considering him. Yeah, he'd seen that. He just hadn't ever really thought about it. And Billy was looking at Dom now, narrowed eyes and small, dangerous smile. And there was no right answer to that question. That question was a trick, a trap, and Dom could feel his lips curling up in sneering response to it.

"You wouldn't have," Dom said, and he was certain of that much. Maybe Billy would have liked to -- probably he would have liked to, who _wouldn't_? -- but he wouldn't have.

Billy's eyes flashed green steel at him, and then Billy was over him, pushing him back onto the bed, the heel of his palm connecting with the bruise on Dom's shoulder and shooting little red sparks of pain through him. He growled up at Billy, and Billy's lips curled, cruel and amused. "Don't tell me what I wouldn't do," Billy murmured, and brushed his lips lightly along Dom's jaw. Dom opened his mouth to assert his certainty, and Billy bit down hard, right at the angle of his jaw, and words skittered away from his tongue, leaving only a choked groan in their place.

Whiteheat, Billy's mouth on his jaw, and Dom twisted, twisted his hips up, and Billy's leg was warmhard against his cock. Billy pressed his knee down between Dom's thighs, pressed Dom's hips down to the mattress with one hand, and Billy's knee was pushing up, hard and angular, blissful painpleasure of pressure, yes, and Dom knew he was hissing and spitting, could feel himself bucking, but _ohsogoodhotyes_ , Billy's skin on his skin, Billy's rich, heavy sex scent around him, the liquid roll of Billy's voice, murmuring: "Tell me, Dommie. Tell me what you saw."

He couldn't think and didn't want to, he only wanted Billy's hands, biting into one hip and one shoulder, and Billy's chest brushing against his, with the spark of Billy's heat against his nipples, and Billy's mouth on his neck ( _yes, bite, Bill, yes, harder_ ), and when Billy went still, Dom buzzed and ached and growled. He turned his face and bit at Billy, and Billy drew back, low, caramel-voiced laughter, laughter that touched him almost as heatedly as Billy's body.

"Come on," Dom hissed, and twisted up, pushing his cock against Billy's smoothsleekhard length. Triumph surged in his blood at Billy's response, Billy's expression ( _want me, you want me, come on, fucker_ ) darkening, feral and intent.

"Fucking power subs," Billy growled, and bit down on the bruise on Dom's shoulder, bit down right where he had bitten earlier in the night, hard. Dom inhaled deeply, and Billy slapped a hand over his mouth. He grinned at Dom's narrow glare, and murmured: "No screaming. We have guests." He held his hand there for a long moment, sliding it away only when Dom gave him a tiny, grudging nod.

"Fucker," Dom whispered, heated and breathy but without real anger. Billy just smirked. And didn't move.

Dom was fully aware of the fact that he couldn't outwait Billy. The patience game was not his strong point, and the self-control game was even less so. He squirmed under Billy's weight, sliding his thigh up to stroke the length of Billy's cock, and Billy shifted, pushed down to take advantage of it, but his expression never flickered. Bastard, oh the bastard, teasing _fuck_!

"What do you want to know?" he demanded, and pushed up on his elbows so that he could lick at Billy's neck, used his teeth just enough to make Billy growl softly. "You want to know that he's white and smooth and sleek, huh, Billy?" Billy said nothing, didn't move, but Dom could feel Billy's cock against his leg, hot and hard and leaking precome onto Dom's thigh (which Billy would lick off later, Billy had a thing for licking Dom's thighs). "You want to know that he bites his bottom lip while he does it, that he gasps like he's in pain?"

Billy jerked forward, pressing his cock more firmly against Dom's thigh. Dom couldn't tell if it was deliberate or a reaction, but he didn't really care. It was Billy who cared about things like that. Dom only cared that _he_ had done it, that his own voice, low and throaty and teasing against Billy's neck, had caused it. Dom's voice and the image of Elijah wanking in Bill's head, and that was insanely kinky, and Dom twisted and shifted against Billy's knee between his thighs, whining a little at the idea of it, just the thought of Billy on top of him, over him, and thinking about Elijah. Why that should be so incendiary, Dom didn't know and didn't care. He meant to use it, though, meant to use it against Billy, because he knew well enough that something new like this, something unexpected, would create interesting little fissures in the smooth, impenetrable granite of Billy's control.

And getting past Billy's control was what Dom did.

"He was really fucking working at it, Bill," Dom breathed, and reached down to wrap a hand around Billy's cock. Billy shifted up, let him have it, and Dom gave him a little demonstration of Elijah's grip, the force, that painfully enticing little twist, and Billy hissed softly and pushed into Dom's hand. "Nice grip, tight, strong twist, must've been hurting at the end, but he didn't stop."

Billy rose up abruptly onto his knees. Dom would have objected, but Billy was pulling him up as well, turning him around, hands brutal and undeniable, and Dom grinned wicked satisfaction. It was never this easy, never so easy to push Billy past teasing and into taking, but this time it was going to be, apparently, because Billy was jamming him forward, pushing him firmly against the headboard, and Dom's cock was pinned between cool wood and his own belly, pressed, crushed, and he gasped and pushed back against Billy's restraining hands.

"What?" Billy sneered. "Can't take it?"

"Anything you can give me," Dom sneered back, and tried to relax a little for what he knew was coming as Billy shoved forward hard, crushing Dom's cock further. Dom's hands were pulled away from their grip around the top of the headboard, too quick, he hadn't seen it coming, and he thought about fighting for control of them for less than a second, and decided not to. Fast, this was fast and vicious, and he didn't want to interrupt that for any reason, not for the sudden burning pain as Billy twisted his arms behind his back and pushed them up higher than could ever be considered even vaguely comfortable, and not for Billy's full weight suddenly pressed up against him, cock hot and demanding against the curve of Dom's arse.

"So sure of that," Billy breathed into his ear, cock poised, both of Dom's wrists grasped in one hand. The other hand was curled around his shoulder, fingertips digging hard into the bruise left by Billy's teeth, and Dom was twisting in spite of himself. He always ended up twisting and writhing, thrust into some halfway state, torn between wanting to ease the pain and wanting more.

"Haven't managed it yet," Dom ground out, teeth clenched, breath short and harsh.

"Not yet," Billy agreed silkily, and jerked his hips, rammed forward. Dom's throat seized up around a scream at that fierce, painful invasion, unlubed and unprepared. Hot tears pricked behind his eyelids as he jerked and struggled; there was no way to avoid the struggling, even with Billy's hand clamped firmly over his mouth and Billy's body pinning him firmly against the headboard. Dom's cock shrieked in protest, and God, good, the sound of his own cries muffled behind Billy's hand, the sound of Billy's erratic breathing against the back of Dom's neck, so good, so _needed_. When he regained enough control to relax slightly, to move, Billy growled furiously and bit the back of his neck, making him stiffen and tremble again, making him jerk and let out a series of throat-bruising cries, short and sharp, and still smothered behind Billy's hand. "Just hold the fuck still," Billy commanded, tongue slick and hot against the skin he had bitten. The hand over Dom's mouth eased away, down, skating lightly across a nipple, across his ribs before closing on his hip, not moving, just holding him still.

Stillness was not a natural state of being for Dom, which Billy well knew. He tried, but he twisted, squirmed, gasping as Billy's cock slid against his prostate when Billy shifted very slightly, not thrusting, not giving it to Dom like he needed it, but just there, inside, which was good, yes, so good, but not _enough_. "Billy," he panted, pushing back, demanding. "Come on, Bill. Come on, fucker."

"No," Billy said, slow, drawing the word out. "I don't think I will, Dommie." Dom jerked and pushed again, but Billy had the leverage. Billy was too bloody good at finding just the right position to keep Dom helpless and craving and unable to take what he needed. Billy had the leverage, and he pushed forward with his whole body and pinned Dom tight, and Dom's cock was being mashed into a fucking pulp, the pain red and pulsing and vivid in his groin and behind his closed eyelids. "I think," Billy murmured, "that you're trying to tease _me_ , Dommie. I think you're trying to use what you saw to get what you want. Is that what you're trying to do?"

"Fucker," Dom spat, and relaxed slightly, let his head fall back onto Billy's shoulder. Billy pressed a soft kiss to the side of his face. "Do it. Hard, do it hard, Bill," Dom murmured, not begging, not quite, but that was okay, he didn't always have to beg. "Give it to me."

"Tell me what you saw, Dominic. Tell me what brought you in here, all locked and cocked and ready to go off. Tell me what I want to know," Billy's tongue was hot and persuasive against Dom's jaw, "and I'll fuck you 'til you scream."

Dom shuddered at that, at the offer of it, the way Billy's voice was like some thick, rich liquid, clinging to Dom's skin, something hot, burning him, making him whimper and twitch, and Dom never felt helpless, like this. Not quite. It was neither helpless nor powerful; it was both, some kind of twisted combination that Dom needed and there had never been anyone better at giving it to him than Billy. And he wanted to give in, wanted to, yes, but there was that other need, too, the need to push back, and Billy knew how to give him that, too.

"Are you trying to top me, Dominic?" Billy whispered, voice deadly and gentle. "Are you trying to take control of this fucking encounter, griobon?"

"No," Dom hissed, which was neither truth nor lie, really, and Billy fisted a hand in his hair and jerked his head back. Dom closed his eyes, breathing through clenched teeth and fighting _not_ to fight, not to tense, but Billy was hot behind him and inside him, hot and insistent and so fucking strong, and he _wanted_ , he fucking _needed_.

"Liar," Billy whispered tenderly, and Dom expected Billy's teeth before they clamped down on the tendon in his neck, sharpfierygood, and he writhed, helpless in the feel of it, and bit through his bottom lip to keep from shouting. "Beautiful," Billy murmured against his neck, and bit down again. Dom couldn't quite keep back the cry this time, and Billy's hips moved in response, jerked forward; Dom groaned, deeply appreciative. "Tell me," Billy urged, voice deceptively soft and gentle, though Dom was not deceived.

And he just didn't have the fortitude to refuse. "He was talking," he panted. "I didn't hear at first, I was distracted, but he was talking the whole time. Whispering, almost." Billy said nothing, but hummed a little against Dom's neck, and eased back just slightly, lessening the pressure on Dom's cock. "He was saying: 'fuck me'. Over and over, repeating it." And he could hear it again, soft but urgent, and when he shut his eyes he could see it, too.

Billy laughed against his throat, a quiet murmur of sound. His hand loosened in Dom's hair and slid down between their bodies, separating Dom's wrists, one into each of Billy's hands. "Liked that, did you?" Billy asked, but not like he was really expecting an answer. Billy drew one of Dom's arms out from behind him, wrist still clasped firmly in his fingers. "Show me," Billy whispered, and relaxed his hold, sliding his fingers through Dom's and moving their joined hands down and around Dom's body, wrapping them around Dom's cock. "Show me, Dommie."

And it didn't matter how he tried to resist, he knew. But his hand tried to pull back anyway and Billy's fingers closed firmly on top of his. He could feel heat rushing to his face, and he had never been able to explain why shame should feel so close to lust, he had never understood why it twisted something as straightforward as desire, which he had never been ashamed of, and made it something else; something just as powerful, but with a different timbre, a different tone.

"Show me what he looked like," Billy whispered, and electric humiliation traveled from Billy's lips to Dom's cock by way of every fucking nerve ending in Dom's body, and he couldn't keep from shivering, couldn't stop his fist from tightening around his own cock. "Yes, let me see."

He was very aware that Billy's lips on his throat -- soft now, no teeth -- were a reward. He hesitated (he always hesitated), but he knew that he would do it. He would, because Billy wanted it, and what Billy wanted, Dom wanted, too. It was simple, humiliatingly simple. Billy liked to watch him squirm, liked to see him blush (and hear him stammer, should he attempt to speak, which was why he didn't), and it hadn't taken Billy long to find out that Dom wasn't shy about much, but this this one thing...

He wouldn't much care if the Pope happened to see him on his knees sucking Billy's cock, but the idea of _anyone_ , even Billy ( _especially_ Billy, who knew exactly how to use it against him), watching him touch himself was enough to make him almost helpless with mortification.

"Do it," Billy breathed, and it was soft, coaxing, but laced with command. He tightened his fingers around Dom's hand and moved it, complete with Elijah's cruelly satisfying little twist, and Dom might have been able to resist that, had it not been for Billy's slowly flexing hips, the decadent slide of Billy's cock into his body, perfectly timed to coincide with the pace of his hand (and Dom's hand) on Dom's cock.

"Oh, Jesus, Jesus," Dom hissed, and Billy's hips slid into careful rhythm with the movement of Dom's hand, and Billy would stop if he did, Dom knew it. His cock ached, the deep, hard burn of desire still entwined with the tender, almost bruised feeling of being smashed, and the corkscrew twisting motion of Elijah's particular grip wasn't helping matters any. Or it was, it was sending tangled, agonizing messages from Dom's cock to his balls and belly, throughout the network of nerves that only seemed to wake up at times like this, when he couldn't tell if it hurt, didn't _care_ if it fucking hurt, only cared about feeling it.

"I want to eat you alive, like this," Billy murmured warmly against his neck, lips and teeth and tongue, and Dom whimperchoked some kind of response, something meant to be affirmative. "This moment, Dominic, here, right _here_ , when you're too bloody wound up to fight me, I'd do anything for it, it's so fucking _perfect_."

He was so close to coming it was like dying, like trembling on the edge of obliteration, and he could hear himself offering garbled pleas and inarticulate submission, useless attempts at bargaining and bribery that never worked (" _let me come, I'll do anything, suck you off, hurt me, Billy, fucking give you everything, please, do anything, everything, just let me let me let me"_ ), but which he still offered up, every time, and which Billy still breathed mocking laughter at, every time.

"Wait for me, Dominic. You fucking know better," Billy whispered, voice a tight caress, a whip-crack that Dom instinctively tried to obey, going shatteringly tense with effort, whole body tightening (and Billy growled and nipped at his too-hot skin, more marks) as he tried to pull back from the very threshold, but he wasn't good at this, he never had been, and he was so hot, he needed _so_ _much_. "Hold on, Dommie, just hold on, just wait..."

Billy's hand was strangling the cries falling from between his lips again, and that whispered, taunting half-threat, only made it worse (which Billy knew, Billy _knew_ , damn him) and Dom was going to fucking blow this, couldn't possibly succeed (Billy liked to make him fail), and he was gripping Billy's thigh with the hand that had been on his cock, which was now neglected but still near to bursting, balls throbbing with the fervent and intense need to let go (he was spitting curses into Billy's muffling hand), and it was a mixture of self-defense and livid frustration driving him when he jerked Billy's hand away from his mouth to spit: "He said your fucking name when he came, Bill, he fucking growled _your_ name!" and he was savagely, viciously gratified by Billy's sudden, strangled gasp (shocklustrelease), the uncontrolled jerk of Billy's hips and the demanding push of Billy's cock inside him, the hot spill of Billy's come into his body, dictated by _him_ , not Billy, and, oh, he _knew_ Billy was going to fucking put him through hell before he let him come, _knew_ that retaliation would be harsh and brutal and extreme -- Billy's fucking hand was already wrapping tightly around Dom's balls, twisting hardfast to make Dom arch and choke back a scream -- but Dom was grinsneering triumph anyhow.

"That was a fucking mistake, griobon," Billy crooned, soft and thick, his fast, harsh breathing a disquieting counterpoint to the slow roll of his voice. "A very serious miscalculation on your part, Dominic."

"You fucking wanted to know," Dom snapped, but he was still grinning, he could still feel it on his face, because he was about to spend the next several hours with Billy's undivided attention, and he _fucking wanted that_.

"We can talk about that later," Billy murmured, and kissed the underside of Dom's jaw with soft, open lips. "Later, we can talk about Elijah and what he did and what he said. Right now, we're going to talk about _you_ , Dominic." He squeezed Dom's balls, still trapped in a ruthless grip. Dom groaned, cock still achingly hard, belly knotted up with want and dread and anticipation and fear. "And we'll find out if you're pushing for more than you can fucking take."

"Not," Dom panted, and he could hear himself whining as Billy pulled out and away from him, could hear the petulant, helpless sound of it, but he couldn't keep it back. Without Billy's body supporting him, he half collapsed forward, the muscles in his arms trembling to hold him up.

Billy was up, off the bed and stalking naked (stalking, what a good word for Billy, what a perfectly fucking _descriptive_ word) across the room. Billy out of bed at a time like this meant Billy going to get something. It was hard to say what it would be.

Aside from rope and leather, they didn't use a lot of toys ( _tools_ , Billy called them, and for some reason that sounded a hell of a lot scarier) on a regular basis, and Dom was never good a predicting what Billy would go for, when the mood struck him. The things they used regularly (cuffs, lube, several lengths of rope and leather, and a truly fucking vicious leather cock ring with pointy bits inside) were in the top drawer of the bedside table. Billy was across the room, only half visible behind the open closet door, and Dom's belly was doing a slow roll that could have been either alarm or exhilaration.

Dom didn't ask what Billy was getting. The roll in his belly would translate to a tremor in his voice, he was fairly sure, and Billy would sneer and taunt him and silence was better.

He felt his eyes widen as Billy moved back toward the bed, his hands filled with metal that clanked and jingled, and for a moment he couldn't fucking breathe. The rolling in his belly had kicked up, was now a spiraling, grinding churn. Billy was smiling knowingly, and Dom bit the inside of his cheek to keep from spitting something snide and provoking at him.

"Leg irons," Billy said. "And matching bracelets. All neat and properly accessorized." But that wasn't all, and he could feel Billy watching him, but couldn't keep his eyes from lingering on the rest of it, the rigid gleam of steel bars gripped in Billy's pale fingers. "Lay back, Dominic," Billy ordered softly.

Dom was doing it before he'd quite decided how to react to the situation, on his back, legs spread (because they'd have to be, because he knew what those lengths of steel were for), hands twitching slightly, wanting to clutch at the sheets. His cock was too stupid to understand anything but the metal sliding around his ankles ( _snikt_ ), the feel of Billy's hands sliding up to his wrists. Just the feel of Billy's fingers around his wrists was enough to make Dom's cock twitch, and the cold metal closing around them -- two little snicking sounds as Billy double locked them -- actually made Dom's hips jerk slightly.

"What?" Dom said, his breath escaping in a shuddering exhale. "What?" _What are you going to do to me?_

Billy's face hovered above his, looking down, smiling still and unnervingly gentle. The only thing scarier than smirking, glitter-sharp Billy dripping cruelty like melted butter was gentle, patient Billy, so serene he looked as if he could catch fire and not even flinch.

"Ever heard that saying, Dommie?" Billy murmured, and ran soft fingertips down the side of Dom's face, tipping his chin up (exposed throat). "Be careful what you wish for?"

"Bill," Dom whispered, and then bit down on his own tongue, because he could read the warning in Billy's eyes like it was printed there in big, block letters, and he understood it. Contrary to popular belief, Dom did indeed know when discretion was the better part of valor. Never mind his buzzing skin ( _touch me touch me_ ), and never mind his aching cock. This occasion definitely called for some fucking discretion.

"What were you thinking, coming in here like that, drunk on Elijah and planning on using him against me?" Billy's lips traced lightly across his throat, and Dom was tense and ready to feel the bright score of Billy's teeth, but it didn't come. He could hear himself panting as Billy's lips crossed collarbones (without biting), nipples (brief, hot assault of clever tongue), and then his left hipbone (gentle little bites, nips really, not even hard enough to sting). One of Billy's hands was drawing idle circles on the inside of Dom's left thigh.

Dom could feel the cold, rigid length of the steel bars against his leg, not yet attached to anything, a taunting reminder of what Billy could do (what he probably _would_ do, eventually, but he would wait to do it until Dom couldn't contain his struggles, and then would give Dom that look that said so clearly that it was Dom's own fault that Billy had to resort to such measures). He tipped his head up to examine the metal around his wrists and the length of chain between them. Long, but Billy had threaded it through the headboard, which shortened Dom's range of movement quite a bit. And if he moved his arms, Billy would use the spreader, which would render his hands nearly immobile.

Billy was licking his way down the crease of his thigh, and Dom's hips wanted to be helpful, move up to meet the warmwet exploration of Billy's tongue. Billy's hands were on Dom's thighs, thumbs sweeping along the backs of Dom's knees, shivering, tender hollows of seldom touched skin. Without Billy's hands pinning his hips, he simply wasn't capable of holding them still, so when Billy's tongue swiped across his balls, God, scorching and sultry, up went Dom's hips, beyond his control, and Billy made no move to stop them.

What was he doing, what was Billy planning? His lips and tongue were on Dom's balls, softheat, no teeth, no pain, but it was far from reassuring. It just didn't fit, it only made it more certain that whatever Billy was doing, whatever evil thing he was thinking, was probably going to _kill_ Dom.

He didn't realize his eyes were clenched tightly shut until Billy's mouth closed around his cock. He let out a short, soft cry, more surprise than anything, and felt Billy chuckling around him. His hips twisted, pushed up, but Billy still wasn't stopping him, and the feel of his cock sliding into the back of Billy's throat was too fucking good for words or sounds or even movement. Once there, he stayed there, body bowed up off the bed and straining to remain so, head back, eyes clenched so that colors swirled madly behind his lids and flares of brightness like strobes fizzled and popped, drowning out color intermittently. Tension streaked through his arms and legs (he could feel the skin of his wrists and ankles being indented by steel, yes), and he was shuddering as he fought to stay up, stay buried in the buzzing (laughing, Billy was still laughing), constricting warmth of Billy's throat.

It took him some time to realize that Billy was making no move to stop, and when his body finally recognized this he relaxed back down onto the mattress beneath him. Billy's mouth followed, locked tight around Dom's cock, sucking hard and deliberately. Dom could hear himself making some sort of choked sound, and his head was swimming with disbelief that seeing it (the spit-slick length of his cock disappearing between Billy's lips) happen did not dispel. He watched, eyes locked on it, chest tight with air he couldn't expel, watched and felt sure Billy was going to stop at any moment, stop and look up at Dom, eyes bright with cruelty and amusement.

But Billy didn't.

It was possible Dom was too used to having to work for it, beg for it, because he didn't even know he was going to come until he was in the middle of it, until he could feel Billy fucking _swallowing_ around his cock, and he jerked and twisted, and there were Billy's hard hands on his hips, familiar. The sound trapped in his chest couldn't get past the shock of it, the unexpected quickness, and he merely writhed soundlessly, open mouth yearning for sound, but unable to produce it.

Bill was watching him, drawing back slowly, pink tongue licking at his lips, and Dom was desperately off balance, unable to quite understand what had just happened.

"What are you doing?" slid right out of his mouth once the tremors in his thighs eased enough for his command of his vocal cords to re-exert itself. His voice sounded slurred and hoarse to his own ears. Billy was slowly, conscientiously licking him clean, making Dom's hips twist and strain backward at the sensitivity of the flesh Billy's tongue was traveling over. He felt stunned and incredulous, unnerved. "What are you doing, Billy?"

There was nothing gentle about the look in Billy's eyes now, traveling up the length of Dom's body, razor-sharp gaze slicing shivering grooves into his skin. He panther-crawled (oh Jesus, that was deadly beautiful, so brilliantly terrifying) up Dom's body until he was straddling him, face hovering just above Dom's, provoking the familiar desire to both pull back, away, retreat to a safe distance, and to push closer, open up utterly and let Billy do his worst. "I'm giving you what you asked for, Dominic," he growled. He slid a hand down Dom's chest and wrapped it around his cock, too tighthard around his sensitized flesh, and Dom's hips jerked back, tried to wrench away (a bad idea, he knew it, but couldn't control it). Billy merely tightened his grip. "This is what you wanted, isn't it," Billy purred, smiling and malicious. He licked at Dom's open lips, and Dom could taste his come on Billy's tongue.

Dom opened further for Billy's insistent tongue, let Billy take possession of his mouth completely, and Billy did nothing but kiss him for long seconds, eloquent tongue as capable as ever of making Dom forget everything else. When Billy's ruthless hand went to work on Dom's cock again, Billy's lips were already in place to subdue Dom's jagged, meager cry. Pulling away was guaranteed to cause retaliation, but it was too much, and he couldn't help it. "This is what you wanted, Dommie," Billy hissed against Dom's lips, and slid his thumb over the head of Dom's cock. Dom's skin shrieked with bright, stinging pain, and he let out a strangled protest, something completely lacking in actual sense, and bucked violently. Billy grinned down at him, hand stilling.

"Give me everything?" Billy whispered, mocking, and bit gently at Dom's lower lip. "Anything? Just let you come?" When he stroked Dom's cock again, he added that vicious twisting motion that Dom had so recently admired. Dom would have screamed (brighthotwhiteblinding sizzle of pleasurepainpleasure, reawakened nerve-endings desperate for escape) as he bucked frenziedly again, except Billy's mouth was not allowing it, was devouring the sounds, harvesting them from Dom's lips like they were necessary to his very survival. "You can take it. Anything I can give you, right?"

"Bill. Billy." He was shaking his head, but he was hard again in Billy's hand, his body's treacherous response to the searing combination of ache and bliss, and Billy was already moving back down, lips and tongue leaving heat and craving in their wake. When Billy's mouth closed around him again, he jerked, some sort of "nnnngh" sound escaping him, and there was no way to keep his legs from closing, his knees from drawing up, even though he knew, he _knew_ (he could still feel the steel against his thigh, shifting a little as he moved, warmed by the heat of his body now) what would happen.

"You want me to let you come, Dommie," Billy said, hand moving on Dom's cock as soon as he'd pulled his mouth away, and Dom writhed and would have begged if he could've got breath for it. "I'm going to. I'm going to let you, I'm going to _make_ you." He grinned. It was not a particularly friendly expression. Then he released Dom's cock and picked up one of the steel bars instead. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, still grinning.

Dom's ankles wanted to shy away from Billy's hands. It was useless -- he was already practically helpless -- but his body never had been good at listening to his brain, so Billy had to turn and straddle each of Dom's legs in turn. When Billy finished, Dom gazed at the metal (spreader) bar, each end slotted into one of the cuffs. Now he couldn't close his legs. He knew it. He could fucking _see_ it (and feel the reality of it, encouraging his cock to leak and his balls to tighten and his belly to quiver in anticipation), so of course he _knew_ it, but he tried anyway (he could hear Billy's low chuckle) because he _had_ to, he was _compelled_ to, and found that he most definitely could not close his legs.

And it was an indicator, a glaring, pointed indicator, that Billy intended something truly serious. _I'm going to **make** you, _ phantom Billy whispered in Dom's head, and understanding ( _Oh! Oh, shite! Oh!_ ) made him close his eyes and force himself to take deep, steadying breaths. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was merely curious. _Can he **do** that? Is it even possible? What will it be like? What will it **feel** like? Will I really want him to stop? _

That was the back of his mind, though. Right up at the front, in the place where everything was happening right _now_ , he was dizzy with expectation. He was nearly overwhelmed with desire that butted right up against outright terror until they merged into one thing, one inexplicable _something_ , not a new thing, but new with Billy.

Billy was going to push him. Not just push, either, Dom sensed it. It wouldn't be gentle nudges designed to learn what pressed Dom's buttons, what drove him. And it had been years since Dom had felt this trembling combination of want and fear. This was not going to be anything familiar; they were about to move past what Dom knew and into territory only Billy was familiar with.

If he wanted a safe word, now was the time to ask for one. He could feel Billy's eyes on him, could feel him waiting for Dom to open his eyes and indicate that he was willing. Dom's heart was beating furiously in his chest. He could feel it in his back teeth, which were clenched tightly, his jaw locked and tense. He forced those muscles to relax and inhaled deeply. It was the first time he'd employed yoga techniques during an encounter. Usually he didn't need it until after.

But it worked. When he opened his eyes, Billy was waiting. His eyes were soft. The smile on his face was unutterably lovely. Dom answered it, certain that his own smile could not be half so gorgeous as Billy's, but that they meant the same thing, nonetheless.

He did not ask for a safe word.

Billy kissed him, slow and deep and languid, and Dom didn't have to fight to keep his hands still while Billy attached the bar to the shackles around his wrists. Dom's cock was no longer quite so desperately afire with nerves, so when Billy pressed his thigh to it, Dom arched up and into the pressure, wanting it again, fully aware that he would regret it, that there would be another 'after', and that Billy had no intention of letting him stop. "How long?" he tried, but that wasn't quite right, wasn't what he wanted to know, and his voice sounded funny, short and gasping and a little timid. "How much?" It still sounded like a plea, though he hadn't meant it to.

Billy drew back to look at him, smiling faintly now, sweet mouth a little swollen from kissing and cock sucking, and absolutely the most desirable thing ever created, Dom was certain. "How much can you take?" he asked. He dipped down and kissed Dom's lower lip.

Dom said nothing, just shook his head a little. He didn't know. Billy smiled, slow and dangerous.

"Until I'm done with you," he said, and kissed Dom again. "Until you _can't_ anymore, my Dommie."

Dom just looked at him, dizzy and wordless, uncertain of what to say, if there was anything _to_ say.

"Until you tell me you can't take it, and I _believe_ you," Billy breathed, tongue flickering across Dom's lips. "And when you're so tired you can barely move, and so hypersensitive that every touch is agony, when you're wide open and completely _mine_ , I'm going to fuck you." He brushed the side of his thumb against Dom's mouth, fixing Dom with those lethal eyes, and Dom couldn't look away, didn't want to look away, didn't want to resist, ever, and he was nodding ( _yes, alright, yes, whatever you say, whatever you want_ ). The world seemed suspended in Billy's luminous eyes. "And you'll come again when I fuck you. You'll think it's not possible, but I promise you, _you will_. And it's going to hurt, Dominic. It's going to _hurt_. And you're going to fucking _love_ _it_."

And Dom believed him.

: : :

"There goes Australia," Orli sighed, appearing genuinely mournful. Somehow Dom managed to hold back his snickers of glee. Beside him, Elijah's glee was muffled but not quite smothered behind both hands. Orli glared reproachfully at Elijah and stood up.

Billy smirked his satisfaction as he moved his troops into Australia. He gathered Orli's little red Roman numerals carefully and deposited them in their plastic box.

"Trousers," Elijah said, the word escaping amidst giggles when he uncovered his mouth to speak.

"I am, keep your knickers on," Orli sulked, and popped the top button of his jeans.

"I still have my knickers, thanks ever so," Elijah mocked, eyes gleaming with intoxication and amusement in equal measures. Even so, he was paying attention to Orli's button fly rather closely.

Dom glanced at Billy across the table. He was sitting back, relaxed and comfortable, and eying Orli appraisingly as well. "This was your idea," Billy pointed out, shrugging slightly. Orli turned to glare at him as well, clearly uncomfortable, and Dom couldn't help the fact that Orli's discomfort only amused him further. It was understandable, of course. Billy had that look on his face -- though it was a somewhat watered-down version of the one that Dom was familiar with -- and having that look directed at you _was_ unnerving. Although it wasn't the first time Orli had been the object of that particular type of attention from Billy. In fact, half the time, Orli brought it upon himself.

Orli needed to play with fire, and Dom had seen him do it often enough to understand that it was compulsory and helpless for him. It was the same thing that made him bungee jump. He was the sort of bloke who would poke at a rattlesnake with a stick. He couldn't seem to help it, his need to toy with things that were dangerous, and Billy was no exception. Orli couldn't quite stop himself from poking at Billy with words, and the result was usually a look similar to this one.

Normally it amused Dom, and Dom was pretty sure it amused Billy as well. And it wasn't anything serious; it was just what Orli did. Orli played; that was just Orli.

Seeing him all uncomfortable under Billy's hungry gaze in a situation not entirely of his own making just made the whole thing funnier, however. It was understandable, yeah, because even though it wasn't anything Orli hadn't seen before, it wasn't something he'd seen before while preparing to shed his trousers and sit around in just his pants.

Provided Orli was even wearing pants tonight, and the thought made Dom choke on laughter again.

"The lack of modesty in this room is appalling," Miranda said, and all four of them jumped guiltily. Elijah stifled more giggles (he was the only bloke Dom had ever met who could pull off a giggle without setting Dom's teeth on edge -- possibly because Elijah was totally oblivious to the simple truth that giggling was, in fact, quite annoying), his face going pink as Miranda's eyes slid over the four of them. She was smiling slightly, her hands full of empty glasses, which she'd clearly been taking to the kitchen. She didn't seem at all self-conscious about stopping en route to ogle their varying states of, however.

"Erm," Orli said, grinning crookedly, his hands sliding quickly away from his button-fly. Dom still couldn't tell if he was wearing pants under his jeans or not, with only the top two buttons undone. "You're just wishing you hadn't turned us down when we asked you to play," Orli asserted, but even he was blushing slightly.

Only Billy seemed unembarrassed. Of course, Billy was still fully dressed. The wanker. He was some kind of fucking Zen Risk Despot, or something.

Dom didn't find this revelation all that surprising, but he would've liked to have known about it _before_ strip-Risk had been initiated. It didn't seem very fair that Billy could pull off Zen and despotic at the same time. The two should be mutually exclusive states.

"Why in the world would I want to sit around with you drunken, half-naked lot when I could clean your living room instead, Orlando?" Miranda inquired sweetly. Orli blinked drunkenly, confused by that logic. Billy laughed softly. "Everyone's buggered off, by the way. I'm just tidying a bit, and I'll be off as well."

"You're more than welcome to stay," Orli said, and Dom couldn't quite work out whether he was being solicitous or suggestive until Orli merely blinked owlishly at her smile. Solicitous, then.

"I don't even want to see how this game of skill works itself out," she shuddered, mock-horrified, and then made Elijah squeak in dismay by ruffling his hair affectionately. She pretended not to notice Elijah's flushed cheeks, lady that she was. "I'll just finish up and let myself out. You lot be good."

Billy snorted, and the two of them laughed together.

She took one more look at each of them, and Dom pretended not to notice that Miranda looking at his bare chest made him feel more naked than Orli was about to be. Then she winked, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Elijah nearly knocked over his half-full bottle of beer straining around to watch her leave (the little bastard was checking out her arse! ), and Dom barely caught it in time to save Orli's carpet a nasty stain. Elijah was in boxers and t-shirt, having elected to remove his trousers first, for reasons utterly unclear (and slightly frustrating) to Dom. It probably had something to do with extreme intoxication.

"Pay attention, 'Lijah," Dom scolded, and Elijah turned back to the board quickly, cheeks still flushed, grinning guiltily. "It's your turn, anyhow."

"Not until Orli gives up the trousers," Elijah stated resolutely, flushed and grinning and adorable. He made eyes at Orli for a moment, the effect pretty much ruined by the fact that he couldn't keep from laughing.

"Fuck you, Elwood," Orli sulked. Orli was about to be totally naked or down to his pants; Dom couldn't really guess which it was going to be. In spite of shagging Orli for months, his habits in that area were still a bit of a mystery to Dom. Sometimes when Dom had got Orli's trousers out of the way there had been pants; sometimes not. He'd never been able to figure out what determined which it would be; it seemed to be random pantslessness. "Fine then," Orli huffed, fingers quick and dexterous on the remainder of his buttons, and shoved his jeans down narrow hips in one quick motion.

Bright yellow boxers hung low on Orli's hips. "Christ," Elijah objected, and pretended to shield his eyes. Grinning, Orli turned round and bent over, providing Elijah with a good look at the smiley face emblazoned across the arse. "Argh! My eyes!" Elijah whimpered.

Billy rumbled low laughter, and Orli flipped two fingers at him, still grinning upside down. When he stood up, he reeled and groaned. Dom caught him around the biceps and shoved him toward his chair, and he collapsed gratefully into it.

"Elijah's turn," Billy said, still laughing.

"You could have warned us," Orli grumbled, throwing a reproachful look in Billy's direction.

Billy's expression was studiously innocent. "About what?" he asked, and he really was appallingly good at that cherubic look for a bloke who liked to tug at the tender skin of Dom's scrotum with his sharp little teeth. Dom steered his thoughts resolutely away from that track, not wanting to show off a lot more than just his lack of undergarments, if he should happen to lose his trousers as well.

He was beginning to think losing his trousers was pretty much inevitable. He really should have known better. He, of all people, knew how slippery Billy's mind was, how fucking flexible and creative he could be, how _bold_. He really should have expected this. Alcohol, he reflected, was not his friend.

"You know!" Orli said darkly, and gestured broadly at the board.

"'Fraid I don't," Billy replied, and grinned. "No idea what you're on about."

Orli muttered disbelievingly under his breath and put his head down on his folded arms atop the table.

Elijah picked up his bottle and drank, and Dom found himself abruptly absorbed by the motion of Elijah's Adam's apple beneath the smooth skin of his throat. The sight hit him hard - the reaction of his body was sudden, unexpected, shockingly intense. _This must be what drug-induced flashbacks feel like_ , Dom thought. He could almost feel the heated steam close around him, and he could smell soap. He could remember the phantom taste of sweat on his tongue as he'd watched droplets of water snake down Elijah's skin.

It had precious little to do with actual events, but when a trickle of beer escaped the corner of Elijah's mouth and sluiced down jaw and neck, he bit his lip and looked quickly away.

The battle to avoid an erection was utterly lost (he could fucking _see_ Elijah's cock in his mind, Elijah's fist wrapped firmly around it -- _fuck_ \-- that ferocious little twisting motion). Still, it wasn't right to stare at your mate's neck and wonder what his skin would taste like between your teeth. Dom's eyes -- perhaps inevitably -- went to Billy, and stuttered to a stop on his face.

 _Would you look at that_! he thought, bemused.

Dom had half expected Billy's attention to be on _him --_ Billy had a knack for catching Dom aroused and unaware -- but not this time. This time, Billy was looking fixedly at Elijah, gaze narrow and focused on Elijah's neck. Billy's attention was so intent, so fierce, that Dom had no idea how Elijah could _not_ be feeling it on him. Dom was absorbed, watching Billy with Billy's control set aside, however briefly. Billy looked like he wanted to take a fucking bite out of Elijah's neck, and the thought sent Dom's blood rushing downward in a jolting rush. His skin tingled and tightened and his fingers curled helplessly under the table.

It was stupid. It was stupid, but Dom couldn't help it. Watching Billy watching Elijah... it was hot, it was fucking burning him up. It was the _idea_ of it, just the thought of it, and it made no sense, because the things he and Billy did already, things they did on any normal, average day, had a little threesome action beat hands down on the kink-o-meter, but that didn't change the way it set Dom on his arse, mind reeling, body tight and hard with possibility.

In the kitchen, glass clinked against glass, and Dom crashed almost painfully back into reality. He glanced quickly at Orli, and was relieved to see his head still down on the table. He was snoring softly. Billy was still fixating on Elijah's neck -- Elijah had just placed his now empty bottle back on the table, and still appeared oblivious to Billy's scrutiny -- and Dom threw a yellow roman numeral at Billy to distract him. It struck Billy squarely between the eyes.

 _Whoops_ , he thought. _Be paying for that one later._

The thought made him smirk as Billy's eyes swung in his direction. The smirk would probably only make it worse. Knowing that only made Dom smirk a little wider.

Billy just looked at him for a moment, neutral, and then smirked back, a slow, sensual curl of lips. _If I were a cat_ , Dom reflected, _I'd be purring right now_. Instead of attempting a purr, however, he turned back toward Elijah, mouth open to speak. Whatever he'd been going to say -- he couldn't recall what it had been -- curled up and died on his tongue at Elijah's expression.

Elijah was too drunk to hide anything, and for a moment Dom was confronted with Elijah's desire in a way that was far more real than hearing him gasp Bill's name in the shower. That had been real, yes, but in another way it hadn't been. Dom hadn't been meant to see that, for one thing. And it had been fantasy, Elijah's fantasy, and everyone did that. Everyone occasionally fantasized about a friend or an acquaintance, and it didn't really mean anything.

This was different. This was Elijah looking right at Billy with open want. It was more than mere want, though. The look on his face held elements of confusion, too, and maybe guilt. He was frowning a little, eyes dark and thoughtful, but it was plain enough. Dom didn't doubt that he'd looked at Billy just that way himself, and more than once. In fact, Dom was fairly sure he'd been looking at Elijah that way less than two minutes before, and that realization made blood rush to his face and neck. It felt wrong to be seeing it, more wrong than that bit of voyeurism in Billy's bathroom, and Dom looked away.

"I'm too pissed for taking over the world," Billy muttered abruptly, and rubbed at his face. "I'm for bed."

"Yeah," Dom agreed. "I'm with you on that." He was quite suddenly exhausted.

~~

He half woke with the confused impression that the bed in Orli's guest room had become inexplicably smaller. It wasn't exactly a huge bed to begin with, but he'd never had any shrinking issues with it before. At the moment, however, he was teetering on the edge of the bed and his bare arse, deprived of all the bedclothes at some point, was fucking freezing.

He pushed himself up onto one elbow, blinking at the bed in confusion. There were, it seemed, one too many lumps in the bed. And the extra lump was hogging the covers, no less. Judging from the unruly mop of dark hair poking out the top of the center lump, the bed invader and cover stealer was Elijah.

He poked the lump.

"Mrph," it said, and then snored softly.

"Elijah," Dom said, and he was grateful that it was sometime in the very early hours of the morning, because he was fairly certain that any other time of the day would have made this situation extremely uncomfortable, considering his newfound interest in Elijah's throat (among other things). Beyond the invading lump, Billy rose up onto his elbow as well.

Dom watched Billy consider the situation for a moment, his brows drawn together and his eyes squinted almost shut. His hair was sticking up ridiculously, and Dom was embarrassed to have to resist the urge to push his fingers into it, smooth it down. Ugh. It was too early for bed invaders and mortifying lovey-dovey urges.

"I am asleep," Elijah said quite clearly, and Billy snorted and rubbed a hand through his hair, making it mostly lay down again, much to Dom's relief.

"The question is, why are you asleep in bed with Dom and me?" Billy drawled, and threw an amused glance in Dom's direction.

Instead of answering, Elijah squirmed closer to Billy and freed an arm from the covers in order to wind it around Billy's waist.

Dom had to bite back a laugh at the expression on Billy's face. He'd never seen Billy look so absolutely flummoxed. He'd probably never see it again, either.

"Elijah!" Billy objected, and he sounded so much like a particular aunt of Dom's (a lady who was well known for being proper in the extreme, and the utter absurdity of hearing that tone from Billy was undoubtedly the funniest thing that Dom had ever had the pleasure to witness) that Dom couldn't quite hold back a snicker. Billy glared at him over the top of Elijah's head, and Dom refrained from further laughter. At least, out loud.

"Shh," Elijah mumbled, and Dom wondered exactly how much Elijah'd had to drink. He couldn't remember. His recollection of the night was fairly blurry, actually, but he suspected it had been rather a lot. "I'm sleeping, Billy."

"Elijah," Billy said warningly, and Dom rolled his eyes. Billy still looked like he wasn't sure if he was alarmed or amused.

"Let me," he said softly, and somehow did not laugh at Billy's continuing perplexity.

He moved closer and carefully disengaged Elijah's arm from around Billy. It wasn't terribly difficult, as Elijah was warm and heavy with sleep and drunkenness, and didn't seem much inclined to resist. It occurred to him that Elijah had been giggling-drunk, not leaden-extremities drunk, when he and Billy had buggered off to bed, and it was a good bet that Elijah hadn't stopped drinking when the two of them had.

"How much did you drink, Doodle?" he muttered, working to get a good grip on Elijah's arms -- he was shirtless and his skin was warm and distracting -- and not really expecting an answer. He was trying to ease Elijah toward the edge of the bed, but unresisting and totally limp Elijah was considerably more difficult to manhandle than he'd expected. "Come on, help me out here, 'Lijah."

"Dunno," Elijah slurred, and was abruptly somewhat too helpful in the moving department. He lurched forward, an uncoordinated surge of arms and legs, and Dom was abruptly holding a lapful of _naked_ (and warm and gently squirming) Elijah Wood. He froze, shocked, and then looked at Billy.

Billy was smirking. Billy had _known_.

Dom was now quite clear on exactly what had made Billy use the 'maiden-aunt' tone. Dom was tempted to use it himself.

"Elijah," Dom said slowly, trying to keep his voice even (and trying to pretend he had never seen Elijah wanking in Billy's shower, that he didn't feel the hardsoft, silky curve of Elijah's arse pressing against his groin, and that his cock was most certainly _not_ reacting to that) and quiet. "What did you do after Billy and I went to bed?"

"Strip Risk," Elijah said, and yawned hugely, breath fluttering warmly against Dom's chest, curious, drunken fingers tip-tapping at the back of Dom's neck, making Dom shiver. "With Orli and Miranda. She's passed out on my couch." He sounded indignant. "I was going to sleep on the couch, and Orli fucking snores."

Dom said nothing for a moment as he tried to follow Elijah's drunken logic while pretending not to notice the drunken nakedness bit. "You were in bed with Orli?" He did his best to ignore Billy's interested expression.

"Orlando snores," Elijah agreed, and squirmed for a moment (Dom closed his eyes and swallowed hard, prickly rush of heat and want), until his arms were wound warmly around Dom's neck and he was practically fucking _nuzzling_ Dom's chest. Dom opened his mouth to object or fucking _something_ , but Elijah murmured (voice a low, lazy, blatantly fucking _sexual_ purr): "And you smell like Billy."

And he _licked_ Dom's chest.

 _OhJesusBleedingChrist_ , Dom thought, excruciating heat flaring throughout his body, skin tingling coldhot -- he could fucking _feel_ his blood diverting southward in response -- and he all but threw Elijah off his lap.

"Oof," Elijah said, sprawled naked and pale and very fucking visible with all that white skin, even in the weak grey light filtering in the window.

Dom looked, Dom couldn't fucking help it, and it didn't matter that he'd seen it before, and probably under what most would consider far sexier circumstances. Elijah hadn't been in a bed between himself and Billy, all three of them bloody starkers. It hadn't been deliberate on Elijah's part before, and it hardly factored that he was too drunk to make wise decisions. Wise and honest were not necessarily coincident.

And before, Elijah hadn't pushed himself naked onto hands and knees to crawl toward Billy (even drunk and slightly uncoordinated, it was a fucking sight to see), only to curl up contentedly, tucked up against Billy's side. Billy made room for him without hesitation this time, without any surprise or maiden-aunt voices.

Dom felt dizzy. His eyes couldn't settle on either of them, shifting instead from Elijah's (totally fucking starkers) body tucked comfortably under Billy's arm, to Billy, who was observing Elijah thoughtfully, not with lust (which was pretty much the only thing there was room for in Dom's head right now), but with a disturbing sort of _concentration_.

He had to close his eyes and block them both out while he scrambled for some kind of self-control, some kind of balance.

It was one of the few occasions in his life in which Dom found himself genuinely speechless. When he opened his eyes again, Billy was regarding him seriously, using one hand to draw the blanket up over Elijah's naked arse without even looking down at Elijah. "All right, Dom?" he asked softly, and Elijah gave a murmuring snore.

Dom nodded, and became aware that he had the palm of one hand pressed against his chest, covering the spot where Elijah had licked him (which he could still feel, quick swipe of warm, wet tongue, and he couldn't help but wonder if Elijah had tasted Billy on his skin, if that was what he had been after when he had done it, though it probably wasn't fair to try to impose any sort of motive whatsoever, since Elijah was so thoroughly sloshed), and he let it fall away. "I'm going to find his clothes," he said, and his voice sounded distant and muted. "He'll be horrified if he wakes up naked in bed with us."

"Will he?" Billy asked softly, but Dom couldn't find the words to answer.

: : :

To say that he was now hyper-aware of Elijah as a sexual creature would not have been overstating the matter any.

He didn't mean to be, but Dom couldn't help it. The world had always been divided into roughly two categories for him: those he wanted and those he didn't. By means of inadvertent -- okay, maybe slightly advertent -- voyeurism, Elijah had vaulted to just behind Billy on Dom's list of those he wanted. It was disconcerting only because he wasn't used to looking at Elijah in that manner.

It wasn't that he hadn't noticed Elijah's appeal -- he had, on several occasions -- but, rather, that Elijah hadn't radiated anything specific enough to pull Dom's attention, not with Orli's blatant sexuality and the occasional flash of Billy's intensity distracting him.

Elijah had been in flux. Elijah was _still_ in flux, Dom was well aware of that. One wanking incident didn't change that. But he couldn't help that it changed his _perception_ of Elijah.

He was mostly just relieved that there were very few scenes left to film that involved both Merry and Frodo.

Tolkien would probably come back from the dead to give Dom a thorough drubbing if he knew that Dom rather thought Frodo was the definitive submissive.

And Elijah was such a fucking pretty Frodo.

: : :

Billy toed him in the shin under the table. Dom looked at him, a startled exclamation dying on his lips at the heated slide of Billy's eyes across Dom's face.

"You're staring, Dommie," Billy murmured, his eyes lingering on Dom's mouth. Dom found himself licking suddenly dry lips without intent, and a smirk flickered across Billy's face for an instant, barely there. "See something you want?"

Dom glanced back toward Elijah, flushed and laughing and fucking _edible_ on the dance floor, while his brain tried to come up with something semi-articulate in response to Billy's casually phrased (but not casually _meant_ , Dom was certain) question. All he was really coming up with was: "Fuck, he's gorgeous." He thought it might be better not to actually say that. It didn't really say good things about his state of mind.

Then Billy said it for him, more or less. "Beautiful little bastard." His voice was some sort of growling burr, warm and approving.

"Yeah," Dom agreed, his attention momentarily pulled away from Elijah (hips pumping in rhythm with the pulsing dance music, face bright with sweat and joy, and Dom was fairly sure the girl he was with had no clue how fucking lucky she was to be the sole object of 'Lijah's enthusiastic attention) and toward Billy.

He was quite taken with the way Billy looked at Elijah. It was _like_ the way Billy looked at Dom, similar, but not identical. There was an element of speculation in Billy's eyes when he watched Elijah. Like Billy was wondering what, exactly, Elijah could be.

That thought had no sooner entered Dom's head than it was spilling out his mouth. "What do you think he's going to be, Billy?" he asked, and Billy turned back toward Dom, looking faintly surprised.

"S'funny you should ask that," he said, and grinned a little. "I've been wondering about it for a while now. I'd meant to ask _you_ about it." His grin went sharp, a little feral and glittery at the edges. "I keep getting distracted."

Dom grinned back, deliberately cheeky, though he was oddly flattered. "I think" he said, and then had to pause for a moment to collect his thoughts. What _did_ he think, exactly?

 _I think I'm a fucking pervert,_ he thought wryly, and wrapped both hands around his glass, studying the grain of the tabletop. _I think I get off on watching Billy eat Elijah with his eyes. I think I get off on the idea of it, more than anything else._

But that wasn't exactly right. It was more than just the idea, more than idle whimsy -- this was something he wanted with a ferocity that surprised him.

He would fucking _love_ to see it. He would fucking _pay_ to see it.

But that wasn't all. There was more to it. Because Billy could have Elijah, that was very clear to Dom, and he was certain Billy was just as aware of it. Billy could have Elijah, and he couldn't blame either of them for wanting the other. He was nothing if not sympathetic.

And Dom knew Billy wanted _him_ , too. He had never doubted it. But the fact was, Dom was a lot more limited than Elijah would eventually be, in a lot of ways.

And Elijah wanted _Billy_.

"I think he's a switch," he said, and didn't look up at Billy, avoiding the temptation to gauge Billy's reaction to that. He wanted to get his own thoughts out first, before they could be colored by what he could see in Billy's face. "I think he's a heavy switch. I think he can do either, both. I think he _will_ do both, given time."

Billy murmured something that Dom deliberately didn't pay attention to. He held up one finger, and Billy fell silent (he was probably giving Dom that smirky little smile he always got on his face when Dom was being "assertive"), waiting.

"I think he might be a strong enough dominant to top _you_ , eventually. And I think he'll be a strong enough submissive to be topped by me."

He stopped and looked at Elijah again, radiant on the dance floor. Dom wasn't the only one in the room whose eyes kept sliding back to him, either. Half the crowd tonight was feeling Elijah's pull, and Elijah knew it. Dom could remember when Elijah had been all but oblivious to his own power, his own appeal.

He looked back at Billy, finally, just in time to watch Billy's eyes slide away from Elijah and back to Dom. He had said a lot, already. And more plainly than he had really meant to. But Billy just looked at him, still waiting, still patient.

"If he wanted us _both_ ," Dom said slowly, carefully, "I wouldn't tell him no. As it stands, I won't tell you not to go for it, if you want to, Bill. God knows I couldn't hold it against you."

Billy just looked at him for a moment, brow slightly creased, though the frown didn't touch his lips. "Do you know what I find strange, Dom?" Billy said finally, studying him intently. Dom shook his head. He didn't entirely trust himself to speak at the moment. "I find it strange that you see everything so _clearly_ as long as it doesn't come close to you."

Dom didn't say anything. He had a feeling he was about to be scolded, and -- ridiculously -- the thought made him feel close to relieved tears.

"I'm not going to leave you," Billy said simply, quietly. "Not even for Elijah. Never." Dom opened his mouth to say something (he wasn't really sure what) and Billy gave him a 'shut the fuck up' look that Dom rather thought he needed to patent. It was quite effective. He shut his mouth. "Furthermore, I think you are a daft cunt, a blind wanker, and completely without anything remotely resembling common sense. I think regular sex is sapping your ability to think logically. I might have to cut you off." Billy was smiling slightly, but his eyes were still thoughtful.

"Hey!" Dom objected. "There's no call for that, now!"

Billy sighed and smiled at the same time, both genuine, but a very odd combination. "Use your brain, for God's sake, Dom. Shite, don't bother with your brain; just use your eyes. Pay attention. Why do your instincts only work when you aren't emotionally involved?"

"I..." but Billy wasn't interested in letting him have a say.

"The closer something comes to affecting you, _really_ affecting you, the less clearly you can see it. Elijah wants you. I've known it for months. I thought you did, too, but clearly I was giving you too much credit. Shite, Dom, he's been checking out your arse since before you and I started shagging. He was quite a lot more subtle with it at first, I'll grant you, but he looks at you just as often as he looks at me." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Dom."

"Uh," Dom said.

"Oh, brilliant observation," Billy declared, and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Dom asked.

"I'm going home," Billy said, and then gripped Dom's shoulder in one hand when Dom tried to rise as well, pressing him back down. "No, stay here."

"I..." Dom began, but Billy leaned in close to murmur in his ear.

"Stay here, Dom. You can't see past how Elijah looks at me, when I'm here. So stay. Dance with Elijah. Stop fucking thinking about it so hard, and use those bloody instincts of yours. If you didn't feel so guilty about it, you'd have seen it already."

Dom blinked, frowned. "I don't feel guilty," he scoffed, but as soon as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. He blinked again, and Billy had pulled back to look at him with calm, green eyes. "I..." he tried again, but this time his tongue knew it to be a lie, and wouldn't spit it out. Guilty? Yeah. Yeah, he'd just never put a name to it. Guilty, because...

But Billy was already saying it, like he was reading it right out of Dom's mind. "You _do_ , Dom." It was very gentle. "You want him and you want me, and that's got you all tangled up. I'd tell you that you needn't be, but that won't do any good. You're going to have to work through _that_ on your own. But I can help with _this_."

"What?" Dom felt slightly numb with surprise. He hadn't seen this coming. He hadn't seen this conversation coming, and it seemed impossible to be having it in a pub on a Saturday night, with Elijah dancing not far away. _Why does this always have to happen in pubs?_ he wondered dazedly. _Why can't we do this sort of thing in the kitchen or something, like normal people? Someplace where there's plenty of crockery to break if things go wrong._

"The jealousy," Billy said, and hunkered down so that they were closer to the same height. Dom could feel the bewildered expression on his own face, and wished he knew how to get rid of it.

 _I'm not..._ he thought, but then didn't bother. Mind-reader Billy was giving him a long-suffering look, albeit one still laced with some kind of weird, gentle amusement.

It wasn't _anger_ , and that was probably why he didn't think of it as jealousy (when he thought about it at all, which was not bloody often -- he wouldn't be thinking of it now if it weren't for that look on Billy's face). There had always been an element of anger to any jealousy he'd experienced in the past, and it didn't feel the same without it. It was like anger formed a protective barrier against hurt, and without that barrier it just hurt. He felt bruised and slightly crumpled when he thought about it, so he didn't.

Not Billy wanting Elijah. They were both in the same pond there; no need for it. But.

Elijah wanting Billy. Or, more specifically, Elijah wanting Billy, _and not Dom_.

"It doesn't matter," he heard himself saying, heard it coming so quickly that the words tripped and struggled over one another to get off his tongue. "It doesn't make a difference, anyhow. And I don't want to dance with Elijah; he's found his playmate for the night. _And it doesn't matter_. "And he really wished he could _stop saying that_.

"I think it matters," Billy said. "And I think you know it." Dom shook his head, denying without words because he didn't know what words to use that Billy would believe, and Billy was fucking staring at him with those too-knowing eyes. Dom wasn't looking back, but he kept forgetting, and whenever he turned his head Billy would catch him with his eyes. "You know it. You've been thinking about it since that night at Orlando's, just like I have." How was his voice so calm? This whole thing was nutters, how could he even talk about it with a straight face? "You just haven't convinced yourself yet that it's real. You've got this blind spot... I'm frankly surprised. Do you always do this? Did you do this with me?"

"I'm not doing anything," Dom said, and his mouth was too dry. It came out the barest of whispers. Dom nearly couldn't hear his own voice over the pounding of his blood in his temples.

"Dom," Billy said, and he looked faintly frustrated. "You aren't looking for what's there because you're afraid you won't see it. It's important to you, so you're denying that it's even an issue."

"Billy. No."

Billy sat back on his heels and considered Dom gravely. He was frowning deeply.

"I..." Dom tried, but it felt like his brain was whizzing along at supersonic speeds and the rest of him was flailing somewhere behind, unable to keep up with or even fleetingly grasp most of his own thoughts. "It doesn't matter..." He was shaking his head, but he wasn't sure why. He wasn't sure he even had anything to say, or if he was just talking to keep Billy from saying anything else flaying, anything else that felt like he was slicing strips out of Dom's mind with a paring knife.

"If you haven't thought about it, then why did you say he could top me _and_ bottom for you, Dom?" Billy's voice was very slow, very cautious. "If you don't want him, why did you say: _'If he wanted both of us'_?"

Dom frowned, unable to answer.

"You know," Billy said, gentle again. "You've known for a while now, haven't you? Longer than I have." Billy's hand was resting warmly on Dom's knee.

For the space of several heartbeats, Dom said nothing. He listened to his heart ramming against the insides of his ribs and looked at Billy, who was looking patiently back, face a touch more open than usual, so that Dom could see the worry there, the sympathy. Deliberate, probably, because Billy could pick and choose what he wanted you to see, mostly. But Dom didn't doubt it was genuine, for all of that.

"He likes girls," Dom said hoarsely. It came out before Dom was ready, unexpectedly forthright, although not entirely truthful.

"Aye," Billy agreed. "For now."

"He might never come into it, Billy. Not everyone does."

"Aye," Billy agreed again. "But you don't think that will happen. And neither do I."

Dom said nothing. There was a nervous fluttering in his belly he couldn't quite put a name to. He was, he realized, _considering_ it. Seriously.

And Billy was right. It didn't feel new.

"All right, Dom?" Billy asked, his hand squeezing Dom's knee slightly.

"Yeah," Dom said. And he was. His belly was still doing that inexplicable fluttery thing, something that felt like equal parts fear, nerves, and excitement, but he was otherwise relaxed. It felt... well, it felt not unlike it had felt when he'd contemplated Billy. Before. Before he'd had the nerve to flatly ask the question that had bothered him. Hope? Desire? He didn't know. Elements of both.

"You staying?" Billy asked.

"No," Dom said slowly. Billy looked like he might argue. "I don't need to, Billy. I believe you." And he did believe Billy, but he also didn't want to see anymore of Elijah tonight. He wanted to be away from Elijah's body and Elijah's gleaming sweat and Elijah's widebright grin (which he could see from the corner of his eye, if he looked). He didn't want to see any more of Elijah until he could think a bit more about this.

Billy looked slightly taken aback, both brows arched upward. "You don't want to...?"

"No." He grinned at Billy. "He's pulled. If I ambush him now, I wouldn't be doing anything but cock teasing. He isn't..."

"Yeah. I know."

"And cock teasing is more your thing than mine."

Billy's brows rose further, eyes glinting. "Is that so?"

"Aye," Dom mocked, and Billy's lips quirked slightly. Dom grinned.

For a few moments, they just looked at one another, neither of them speaking. "I don't see why we have to have these sorts of talks in pubs," Dom said finally. "I'd like to know why that always happens."

Billy sat back down in his chair, relaxed, one ankle propped up on his bent knee. The position gave Dom a lovely view, which Billy well knew. "Sort of inevitable, innit?" he asked, smiling so hard he was nearly beaming, all his energy behind that smile, and the man had a lot of bleeding energy. "As much time as we spend in pubs."

: : :

Dom wandered out into the living room (naked, because he did more or less live there, after all) in search of tea and Billy.

It was sometime just past dawn; Dom wasn't sure exactly what time. They'd broken the clock on the bedside table two days ago, and it had seemed pointless to replace it when they were leaving so soon. He'd awoken partly because he was just used to waking early, and partly because the place where Billy was supposed to be was mysteriously Billy-free.

He saw why as soon as he cleared the hallway. Billy was on the couch, head tilted back against the arm (it looked uncomfortable to Dom, guaranteed to leave a crick in the neck), eyes closed. Elijah was draped across Billy, apparently asleep, one hand curled up beside his cheek on Billy's chest. For a moment, Dom just looked at the two of them.

Elijah's lashes threw spiky, charcoal shadows across the angle of his cheekbone. In the half-light from the burgeoning daylight outside, Elijah looked pale and perfect, skin almost silvery, lips dusky pink. Dom had the almost painful urge to feel the shape of Elijah's lips under his fingertips.

He felt Billy looking at him, and turned his eyes away from Elijah. Billy's face was solemn, the lines in his brow and around his mouth deepened by the shadows. Dom watched Billy's right hand drift up from Elijah's shoulder to smooth Elijah's hair. The shadows in Billy's eyes had nothing to do with the lack of light in the room.

"All right, Bills?" Dom murmured, quietly so as not to wake Elijah.

Billy nodded, his eyes flickering to Elijah for a moment, lingering soft on Elijah's face. "My legs are asleep."

Dom smiled. "Little bugger's heavier than he looks, inn 'e?"

"He hasn't done this in a long time," Billy murmured. Dom watched Billy's fingertips skim along Elijah's jaw line, and he was fairly sure that Billy had no idea that he was doing that. It made Dom smile, slightly, but it also made his chest feel tight and heavy. "He used to, occasionally. Come over to sleep, I mean, not necessarily sleep on me. He's only slept on me once before." Billy smiled faintly. "But he'd come over and sleep while I watched telly or read, sometimes, when he didn't want to be alone."

Dom hadn't known that. "He's upset?" Although Dom didn't really need to ask. It was fairly obvious; there was no need to ask why, either.

"And drunk," Billy agreed. He grinned and arched a brow at Dom. "He apparently thought that might help."

"It's only natural. He's nineteen, after all."

"Help me get him into bed?" Billy asked. "Don't think I can get him there with both legs numb."

"Right, give me a minute to put something on." Because Dom remembered very clearly what had happened the last time he'd been naked in the same room with drunken Elijah. Apparently, Billy remembered too, because he laughed quietly. "Sod off, wanker," Dom threw back over his shoulder as he ducked into the bedroom.

He grabbed Billy's jeans off the back of a chair -- his own were crumpled somewhere up near the head of the bed -- and slid into them, grateful that Billy didn't wear his jeans too terribly snug. By the time he got back out to the living room, Billy'd managed to sit up. Elijah was dead weight, his head lolling against Billy's shoulder.

With Billy's help, Dom hauled Elijah up and the two of them half-carried, half-dragged him into the bedroom. Billy moved out of the way so Dom could strip off Elijah's trainers and jeans, only leaning in after Dom had pulled a sheet over Elijah. Dom watched him tuck a pair of dangling leather cuffs behind the mattress and conceal the chain with a handy pillow. "You should take his socks off," Billy said, apparently seeing nothing at all odd at having to hide bondage gear while Elijah was sleeping in their bed. Dom's lips quirked at the idea.

"I'm not touching his feet," Dom objected. "They've been in his trainers for hours. Ugh!"

"His feet will get hot," Billy warned direly, and Dom snickered.

"Bugger off. If you're so worried about it, _you_ take his socks off."

Billy frowned, but didn't take Elijah's socks off, either. "I smell like drunken Elijah," Billy observed. He was still looking at Elijah, though, and his face was still unguardedly tender. "And he drooled on me." Billy smiled faintly at that, and Dom's lips curved upward as well. "I'm going to shower."

"Has he got time to sleep it off? What time is it?" Dom was already thinking about trying to wake Elijah up enough to get him to drink some water and take some aspirin.

"He's got hours, yet," Billy assured him. Billy paused in the doorway. "Keep an eye on him, Dom? He hasn't been sick, but I don't know how much he drank. He was bloody staggering, anyhow."

"Yeah, I got him, Bills. Go get rid of the Elwood drool." He grinned at Billy's eye roll.

Dom got a glass of water and a pair of aspirin tablets from the kitchen and arranged them on the bedside table where Elijah wouldn't have to stagger far to get to them. For a little while, Dom watched Elijah sleep -- he was snoring softly, which he only really did when he was very drunk or very tired -- and listened to Billy shower. Dom was still tired -- they'd been up quite late the night before for the Bon Voyage party -- but he didn't want to leave Elijah alone in the bedroom to go crash out on the couch. He weighed the decided lack of wisdom in climbing into bed with Elijah versus the burning of his tired, itchy eyes.

Eventually, his tired eyes won.

He slid in beside Elijah, still in his jeans -- wisdom wasn't entirely abandoned, after all, merely temporarily circumvented -- and Elijah opened his eyes and gazed blearily at Dom.

"Don't hog the covers this time, Doodle," Dom murmured, and Elijah smiled faintly.

"Don't throw me 'cross th' bed this time, Sblomie," he mumbled thickly, his eyelids slipping closed again.

It took several seconds for Dom to make sense of it. Once he did, some kind of reeling, dizzy shock sizzled through his brain.

Elijah _remembered_ that night.

Dom could feel the slack surprise on his face, and was glad Elijah'd closed his eyes again. Elijah remembered that night, and just what the bloody fuck did _that_ mean? Did it mean he'd done what he had done deliberately? Did it mean he'd crawled into bed with them on purpose to begin with, that it'd been intentional? Did it mean...?

Dom shook his head a little, shaking off the surprise. It didn't mean anything, of course. It didn't mean anything, even if it _did_ , because Elijah hadn't mentioned it since, and Dom and Billy had sort of naturally assumed that Elijah'd been so pissed he couldn't remember a thing. And the fact that he did remember, well, it was interesting, but it didn't really _mean_ anything. Especially if Elijah was only willing to bring it up now, when he was clearly just as pissed as he'd been the last time.

It didn't mean anything except that the possibility was _there_ , and Dom had already known that.

"It's a deal," he whispered, even though he was fairly sure Elijah'd already fallen back asleep.

~~

Sometime later Dom opened his eyes to full daylight, and to Billy watching him sleep. Watching _them_ sleep. Elijah had curled up against Dom's chest at some point, and his hair was tickling Dom just under his chin. Billy was fully dressed, but stretched out along the edge of the bed on the other side of Elijah, one shoulder resting against the headboard, just watching.

When he saw that Dom was awake, he tapped the watch on his wrist and held up three fingers. Three hours until their flight left, then.

Three hours, and true to form, Dom still had a load of crap to get done. He should get up and start getting some of it done. He should.

But he didn't.

He just lay there, instead, feeling Elijah's hair tickling his chin and Elijah's breath fluttering across his shoulder with each exhalation.

 _I want this,_ he thought and there was no surprise, only a deeply unexpected twinge of pain. He looked at Billy, and for a moment, Dom was shaken. Because Billy looked tired. Billy looked fucking exhausted, and his eyes were hooded and distant and strange. Billy looked bleak. "Billy?"

Billy just shook his head, reaching across Elijah to take Dom's hand. Dom pulled Billy into them, right up against Elijah's back, and Billy dipped his head down to rest his forehead on Elijah's shoulder, eyes closed and hand tight around Dom's hand.

##  _MANCHESTER_

Manchester was the most dismally lonely place on the planet.

He could remember what it felt like to love it. He _still_ loved it. _He did_. He could remember being almost physically ill with missing it, early on in filming, when New Zealand had not yet become his home and the cast had not yet become his family.

But being back (without them) felt like it was nearly killing him.

He couldn't settle to anything.

He was constantly on edge, jittering and jumpy and every time he entered an empty room, it was a disappointment. As if he'd expected, somehow, someone to be waiting for him. Even worse was when he entered a room filled with laughter and with people he loved, old friends, family, and was nearly flattened by the crushing disappointment at finding the _wrong people_ waiting for him.

All in all, it made him feel like the world's biggest twat.

There were days when it took all of his acting skills not to show what he was thinking, feeling. It was stupid. He didn't love them any less for having been away, but it was like he couldn't quite fit himself back into the slot he had vacated, like he wasn't the right shape anymore, like the spot that had been left for him when he had gone had narrowed somehow, until he felt compressed and depressed and oppressed.

It was Billy (of course) who pointed out the error in this logic.

Dom was due in Glasgow on Friday, but Wednesday was so stifling that he found himself dialing Billy's number on his mobile without thought, pure force of habit. He was walking past a row of shops (all of which looked older and dirtier than Dom remembered) and spilling his irritation out before Billy had said anything other than: "Oi?"

"You're trying to fit yourself into a spot you've outgrown, Dom," Billy said, after Dom finally stopped blathering (he knew he was doing it, which just made him more irritated). "It hasn't got smaller, you idiot. You've got bigger. You've got to relax, take some time to adjust, and to let your friends and family adjust to who you are now. You can bet they're going nearly as mad as you are. You're like a stranger to them now."

"I don't see you going bonkers, Boyd," Dom grumbled, thoroughly cranky at the fact that Billy was almost certainly right. He generally was. It was annoying, that.

"Margaret and I hardly know how to speak to each other," Billy said quietly, his tone nearly unreadable. "We've always been rather close, you know? But things are working themselves out." Dom could nearly hear it when Billy smiled. "And my other friends are all actors. Actors are used to people leaving and coming back different. There isn't the same sort of constriction in those circles. They don't try to make you be what they remember you as."

"Right," Dom said. "Right, you're right."

"Of course," Billy agreed sardonically.

Dom scowled. "That's very annoying, Boyd."

Billy ignored that observation. "Elijah rang me," he said. "He wondered why you haven't rung him back."

Dom sighed. "I'm an arse. And it just makes it worse to talk to him... or... to talk to any of them, really. It just makes me... I dunno. Homesick?" He wasn't entirely sure that was the right word, but it _felt_ right.

Billy didn't sound surprised. He almost never did, Dom reflected. "You might think about ringing him. I think he's feeling like a bad fit, too."

"I'll think about it," Dom said, scrunching his fingers into his hair and trying not to think about Elijah.

Billy was quiet for a few moments. The phone hissed faintly in Dom's ear.

"I'm thinking about visiting my brother," Dom said finally, which was true. He'd been thinking about going _somewhere_ , anyhow.

"I'll be here when you get back," was all Billy said.

##  _GLASGOW_

Billy's hand was resting lightly on Dom's hip. The light said very early morning, but maybe it was later - the light was funny in Glasgow. It didn't always accurately represent the time of day. Dom wasn't sure why he was awake.

Then Billy said his name (again, Dom was fairly sure, which explained why he was awake). Billy's voice was solemn enough to snap him into something resembling alertness.

"Do you miss him, Dom?"

There was no need to ask whom he meant.

"Phantom limb," Dom mumbled sleepily, and Billy laughed softly.

"I like talking to you early in the morning. You speak your own cryptic little language."

Dom grinned as Billy's hand slid down to stroke lightly across his belly. "You understand."

"Aye. That I do, Dom."

Dom was drowsing again when he felt Billy's fingertips sliding along his right shoulder blade. "Where did this come from, then?" Billy asked softly. It was nearly a whisper, as though he didn't want to wake Dom if he'd fallen back asleep.

"Bloke named Alain," Dom said. "Got a little too excited with a belt."

Billy said nothing for a while. His fingertips traced along the length of the scar, which was very light, barely raised at all. "Must've bled," he said finally.

"It did," Dom agreed, and meant for that to be all. It wasn't something that was particularly painful or traumatic, but it wasn't something he'd ever felt the need to talk about either. Dwelling on things was pointless.

"I was really young," he heard himself say, and was genuinely surprised. His voice was slow, halting, like it was stuck somewhere between vocal cords and tongue. "Eighteen, maybe. Alain was an acquaintance of a friend. Not a bad bloke. He didn't mean to do it."

He was startled at how clearly he could remember it. He hadn't given it any thought in years.

It had been the doubled up length of Dom's own belt, and it hadn't been the pain, though it _had_ hurt. Someone hits you with a belt, it hurts; it's supposed to. It hadn't been the pain, but rather the unexpected sight of his own blood, appearing like tiny red stars, spreading and diminutive explosions on pale grey sheets. It had been the feel of it, warm on his right side, dripping onto his arm.

"He stopped right away."

Dom had safe-worded. He hadn't ever done it before (or since, for that matter), and he remembered the way the word had felt coming off his tongue, oddly shaped and inappropriate to the situation. Even then, he hadn't felt any panic. He'd heard stories about panicking, the tunnel vision and the claustrophobia and the dizziness. Dom hadn't felt any of that. He had felt fear, yes, but also a deep, furious sense of betrayal, and that had tamped the fear down to a manageable thing.

"It scared the fuck out of me."

Alain had freed his hands at once, and Dom had punched him in the face. Wham. He could remember how that felt too, and how it had felt to watch him fall (no pleasure there, only an uncomfortable all-over wince at striking his top), the whole thing driven more by that feeling of betrayal than by actual anger.

"I hit him."

" _You want to make me bleed, you'd bloody well better ask nicely first, you cunt,_ " he had spat.

"It was weird, Billy," Dom said, and squirmed around to face Billy. "I wasn't angry with him. I was something else. Disappointed, or something. And it wasn't the blood, you understand? Or, it was, but it wasn't because of that. I was surprised, but it was... he should have asked me."

"Of course he should have. That's the accepted rule, anyhow." Billy was regarding him thoughtfully. "What did he do? When you hit him?"

"Nothing. He didn't look all that surprised, actually. Helped me clean my back up and sent me off home." Billy laughed softly, and Dom frowned. "Why is that funny?"

"Well, no, it wouldn't be a surprise. Not if you were anything like you are now, Dom." He laughed again. "You're a funny kind of sub. I haven't met many like you, none of them as _strong_ as you are. If I ever botched it like that, I'd fully expect you to thump me."

"Have you ever?" Dom asked curiously. "Botched it?"

"No. I haven't. Not like that."

"I knew that," Dom said smugly, and bit Billy's chin lightly.

"Wanker," Billy muttered fondly. "Is that the worst of it?"

"Yeah." He tucked himself up under Billy's chin, feeling comfortable and warm and lazy. Billy rubbed the bottom of his chin against Dom's hair. "I've been lucky, I know."

Billy rumbled laughter, chest vibrating against Dom's cheek. "I doubt luck had much to do with it, griobon. You really do have good instincts."

Dom rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Billy was humming softly, probably something Scottish. Dom didn't recognize it. It lulled him very gently into a doze, however, and he let it. He barely registered the transition from Billy humming to Billy talking.

"The worst thing that ever happened to me was thinking I'd fallen in love. I was twentyish, and working in the bindery. I'd already figured out I was bi, but I hadn't done anything else. It was lust at first sight." He laughed a little, and it sounded strange to Dom, a little hollow. Not a good sound. Dom tried very hard not to tense.

He'd been sort of waiting for something like this for a while now. A Serious Talk.

It wasn't that he and Billy didn't talk; they did, all the time, and about everything. But he'd seen this coming, seen the need for it coming, for a while. Because fuck about as they might -- and they did -- at some point they were going to have to make some sort of a decision concerning Elijah. And even though they weren't talking about Elijah right now, Dom understood that they would be, eventually.

And Dom wanted to know. Whatever it was Billy was about to reveal, Dom wanted to know. Billy didn't do things like this often, and Dom was perfectly clear on what it meant. It was a trust thing, Billy trusting Dom with his secrets. Not all of them, because Billy was Billy, and Dom would probably be finding out things he hadn't known about Billy until the day he died.

But Dom could feel that whatever was coming was not something idle, not something inconsequential. This was Billy's way of giving.

"I was pretty typical of any twenty-year-old who thought he was in love. Did things I wish I hadn't, said things I wish I hadn't. And at the end of it all, I was a little clearer on the way the world worked. One of the things I learned was that you'll do things for someone you love, someone you want, that you would never ever do otherwise, just because he wants you to."

 _He was a top_ , Dom thought, but didn't say. There was no need to. He was right, and Billy wouldn't say it unless Dom made him. Dom had no real urge to do that. _He was a dominant, and Bill was his..._ His mind stuttered and tripped over _'sub'_ (he just couldn't see it), so he substituted _'bottom'_ instead. Even then, it wasn't something he found possible to actually imagine, and Dom's imagination was generally pretty fucking flexible.

"I don't want that for Elijah, Dom."

"I know," Dom said, and waited for Billy to go on. He was familiar enough with the way Billy's mind worked to understand that Billy would have a list, a mental checklist, and Billy needed to go through it. Needed to put it out there, on the table, so to speak.

Dom's mental checklist consisted of only one sentence: _Is Elijah ready?_ Until he could check 'yes', he was content to wait.

Well, not content, no, but resigned.

But listening to Billy lay out his mind was no hardship. Dom liked it, liked thinking about the things Billy thought about, examining them, trying to work out how Billy had come up with them, and why.

"He's too inexperienced to even know what he wants. It isn't a matter of 'can we' pull him into this. It's a matter of 'should we'. Because it could fuck him up. It _will_ fuck him up, if it's not something he's prepared to deal with. And there's a lot he doesn't know."

"I know," Dom said again, and Billy rubbed his chin against Dom's hair again.

"He's so..." Dom could almost feel Billy groping for the right word. Dom was doing the same thing, discarding words like _naïve, innocent, inexperienced, young_. They didn't fit, exactly, those words; they weren't descriptive enough. There was more to it than that, because Elijah wasn't really any of those things, but had elements of all of them.

"He's so _Elijah_ ," Dom supplied, and Billy chuckled. Dom smiled too, but said: "You know that's it, though. There aren't any good words for Elijah; none of them fit right. They're all just a little too narrow or a little too broad. He's like a like a painting done in the middle ages, before you could just buy your paint in little tubes, and you had to go out and find the right stuff to make the exact shade you wanted. The colors can't be recreated, exactly, because each artist made his own colors, and every shade was just a little bit different. Elijah's like those colors. He can't be green because there's a little too much yellow and undertones of what might be orange and whoever made him brushed silver lightly over the whole thing when they finished with him. There aren't any good words for Elijah. He's a little bit of everything mixed just right." He could feel Billy looking at him, and was abruptly self-conscious. "Sorry," he said softly.

"Don't be," Billy said, just as softly, and his arms went tight around Dom for a few seconds, like he was afraid Dom was going to try and move away. "You're amazing. That was that was a beautiful thing to say, Dom."

Dom couldn't think of any good way to reply to that (though his cheeks were warm and his mouth wanted to smile), so he said: "Go on, then."

He didn't though, not right away. Instead he just breathed steadily (it reminded Dom of yoga, when Billy did that, and he did it often enough that Dom had occasionally considered asking Billy to join him at yoga; he hadn't only because he understood that Billy had other ways of dealing with his inner turmoil, and it fit, somehow, that those things were slightly dangerous, sharp-edged weapon twirling and Billy's hands breaking boards and bricks) for a while, one hand kneading at the back of Dom's neck, making his head want to loll forward against Billy's ribs.

Dom waited.

Billy sighed and shook his head, sharp gesture of frustration. "He's so young, so open, right now. And I don't seduce straight boys, even those that only _think_ they're straight. I've never been interested in changing anyone's orientation, and I don't want to start now. I want to let him make that decision himself, give him time to 'test the waters' so to speak, without throwing him into a ménage a trois involving his two best mates and a whole lot of fucking leather."

Dom snickered, and Billy snorted. "Shut up, I'm not as lyrical as you, fucking poofter."

"Cunt," Dom grinned.

"I think it's important that he know what he's getting into before he gets into it. I think he has to understand that you and I and him is possible, is an actual option. I think right now, he can't see that. I think he just doesn't have a frame of reference for it."

"Yeah," Dom agreed. "I think he's keeping it separate, right now. Wants you, wants me, don't think it's ever occurred to him to want 'us'. Don't think he knows how."

"He's strange," Billy mused. "All Hollywood snark and Middle-class American morality. We should probably count our blessings that he isn't flatly homophobic."

"Not possible," Dom said. "He could never be. He's not the sort."

"I know," Billy murmured. "If he isn't ready we'll end up losing him. He'll move on, and well, losing him would just be the first bad thing. Then there'd be worrying about where he'd go, who he'd go to when he _needs_. And and I would never forgive myself if he got hurt."

"You don't think he might get hurt learning about it in the first place?" Dom asked, genuinely curious. He did not add: _You did_.

"It's possible," Billy said tightly. "There isn't any way to make this risk free, Dom. You know that."

Dom did know it. But. Still.

"Still," he said.

"I'm not talking about waiting until he comes home in rubber trousers carrying a bullwhip," Billy protested, and Dom snickered. "I'm just talking about waiting until he comes to terms with his sexuality enough to be able to make that kind of decision without being influenced by _our_ opinions." He paused. "You're the kind of sub who might be a wee bit daunting even to a dom with a moderate amount of experience. Think about how Elijah would see you, Dom. Think about the kind of culture shock he'd feel."

"Right, it's just me!" Dom said, amused and indignant. "You're not scary in the least, Boyd." Billy's chest vibrated with laughter under his ear. "Certainly not! Not even a little. Not when you bite, not when you smirk, certainly not when you jerk my hands up mmph." All in all, it certainly wasn't the worst way of being shut up. They were both still laughing, slightly muffled by lips and tongues, and Billy's fingers were ghosting along his ribs just lightly enough to tickle. "Quit it," Dom snickered, words all jumbled against Billy's lips. "Wanker."

"Cunt," Billy replied, equally muddled.

"Tosser," Dom muttered, and gasped a little as Billy's tongue slid into his mouth a bit deeper, suddenly more demanding and more serious. Still soft, though, gentle and slow and sweet, and Dom could feel himself going all warm and compliant in response. Billy's hands slid down Dom's chest lightly, fingertips brushing his nipples. Dom sighed at the whispery feel of it, and shivered a little when Billy did it again.

"I like" Billy said softly, and bent to lick at the line of one of Dom's collarbones, "the way your eyes look when you first wake up. And I like the way you smell like outside, even if you haven't been outside all day. And I like it when you say my name in your sleep."

For a moment, Dom couldn't think what to say. Billy was smiling at him, an almost disconcertingly open expression, coming from Billy. He blinked, and for long moments, nothing would come. It wasn't until Billy's mouth was on his that something stuttered out from between Dom's lips, and when he heard himself say it, he was surprised. "Thank you."

He could feel Billy smiling, his mouth curled up against Dom's. "You're welcome," Billy murmured back, and coaxed Dom's lips open with little laps of his tongue, quick and not quite teasing. Dom's hands slid around Billy's hips and up his ribs. Billy's skin was sleek and hot, and Dom's palms tingled at the feel of it. Even better, Billy moved into his hands, arched against them, and made soft, encouraging sounds in his throat (because their mouths were busy, Dom assumed).

When Billy turned onto his back, pulling Dom on top of him, Dom was momentarily taken aback. Billy grinned up at him as Dom paused, taking stock of the position, and considering how best to take advantage of all of Billy's skin, spread out under him. Having the use of his hands was a novelty, and they hovered uncertainly.

 _It's not like I haven't touched him before_ , Dom chided himself, but his hands continued to hover for long moments. Dom had touched Billy before, of course, in every possible way, in every conceivable place, but he didn't often get to do it from this particular angle. Never, in fact.

Because.

Billy didn't usually lay flat on his back like this.

Actually, Billy _never_ laid on his back. Not during sex. Billy was always up and moving, Billy was on his knees or on his feet. Even when Dom rode him ( _hey, yes, that's a good idea_ ), Billy was sitting up, propped up against the headboard, or in a chair or something. Billy had to be moving, doing, and having Billy still and patient under Dom was fucking weird.

"You feel vulnerable on your back," Dom said, understanding it clearly for the first time (though as soon as he actually said it, he realized that he had known this about Billy for some time. Then: _Fucking shite, that wasn't the right bloody thing to say._

But maybe it was okay, because Billy was smiling. "Aye," Billy said. That was all.

"Oh," Dom said, and blinked. "Oh." He could think, quite suddenly, of about a thousand things he wanted to do, a thousand places he wanted to touch, caress, worship, but his hands continued to hover, hesitant. He felt rendered immobile, not afraid, but something else, something deeper.

When Billy reached up and slid his fingers along Dom's jaw (Billy's touch was almost ludicrously gentle, like he was afraid Dom would bolt), Dom's paralysis broke spectacularly, and he was holding Billy's face and kissing him, and Billy's mouth was open and agile and Dom could feel him smiling.

With Billy inside him and spread out beneath him, Dom could see him (see _into_ him) in a way that Billy rarely allowed, could see (Billy's body arched, back off the bed, face tilted up, eyes closed, mouth open) so _fucking_ much, and Dom felt dizzy and almost painfully grateful that he was allowed to see this, that Billy could let him have this.

And he found that his hands _did_ know what to do from this angle, after all.

~~

Billy was still asleep. Dom was standing naked in Billy's kitchen, drinking tea and considering the phone in his hand. Sort of considering it, anyhow.

All right, not really considering it at all. Just holding it, and thinking about how Elijah had looked the last day in New Zealand, thinking about Elijah's cheek on Billy's chest, thinking about Elijah's cheek on _his_ chest. Thinking about Billy saying that he suspected Elijah was feeling like a bad fit, too. Thinking about Billy's eyes, shadowed and weary.

Thinking about how, apart, they were _all_ a bad fit.

It was the middle of the night in Los Angeles. It'd be rude to call and wake Elijah up just because Dom wanted to hear his voice.

Bugger that.

"Dom," Elijah said, and Dom's chest contracted painfully at Elijah answering the phone like that, with his name (though Dom had called on Billy's phone), and the way Elijah's sounded tired, but not like he'd been sleeping.

"What are you wearing?" he purred into the mouthpiece, and was rewarded with Elijah's raspy (he'd been smoking too much) chuckle.

"Sblomie," he sighed, but Dom could tell he was grinning like a loon, all the way across the ocean. "Fuck, where have you been? You cunt, I haven't talked to you in well, forever!"

"Six days," Dom inserted dryly.

"That's like six months in hobbit years," Elijah countered immediately, still audibly grinning. "How many breakfasts is that? Like 80?"

"Twelve," Dom said immediately. There was no need to figure. The four of them had worked out the numerical logistics of hobbit eating habits ages ago. "Twelve breakfasts, if you count elevensies as a lunch. Or forty-two total meals."

"Elevensies happens before noon, it counts as breakfast," came the familiar argument, and then they were both laughing, and Dom was fairly sure he would've kissed Elijah, if it weren't for the sodding ocean.

Somehow, during the course of the conversation, it was decided that Dom was going to L. A. Dom didn't really remember deciding it, but he wasn't particularly surprised to discover that he had. Elijah was like that, sometimes. Once he got something in his head, it was practically fait accompli.

He was Elijah Fucking Wood. All would love him and despair.

##  _LOS ANGELES_

Dom really wasn't sure when the visit had become permanent. He couldn't remember when 'staying with Elijah' had turned into 'living with Elijah'. He couldn't remember the first time Elijah had said it, either.

He remembered the first time Billy had said it, though. He remembered it because it had been the first time that it had been clear in Dom's mind that he intended to stay. Before he'd heard Billy _say_ it, it had been a visit in Dom's mind, with some intention of returning to Glasgow. Because Billy meant to stay in Glasgow. They'd never discussed it, but Dom knew it. Before Billy had asked, and Dom had said he didn't know even as he had realized that he _did_ know, Dom had always assumed that he'd eventually go back to Glasgow.

He remembered when Billy had first said it, remembered the tone of his voice: "If we don't want him to slip away from us, it might be a good idea, Dom."

He had not asked Billy why he was staying in Glasgow.

Living with Elijah was a bit like camping excursions Dom could remember as a kid. You all piled into somebody's parents' vehicle and motored off into the wilds for a few days or weeks, and from that point on, anything could happen.

For the most part, it was good.

: : :

Dom was keeping a list of words in his journal that his mind inadvertently chose to describe Elijah.

He had one for Billy; he'd been working on that one ever since New Zealand. It consisted mostly of variations on the words: _menacing, brutal, cruel, sarcastic, and gorgeous_. It also included a variety of predatory animals. The first word on Billy's list was _wanker_.

The second-most recently added word on Billy's list (added in the airport in Glasgow as Dom had watched Billy walking away from him, fingers clutching in the pocket of his carry-on for a pen) was _inscrutable_.

The most recently added word on Billy's list (added while he, drunk, and Elijah, drunker, had played the newest Tomb Raider and discussed why being bi was more practical than being straight) was _beloved_. It was smeared with several drops of spilt beer, but Dom had traced over it when he'd discovered it there that morning, firming up (reaffirming) the shape of the word.

He'd found it necessary to divide Elijah's list into two columns after a little more than a month of living with Elijah. Two weeks after that, he'd added a third column.

Billy's list, he reflected as he sat on Elijah's lumpy bachelor couch and chewed on the end of his pen, had been quite a lot easier. It probably had something to do with that fact that Billy's list had been sort of an accident. It had started off as dozens of unconnected observations beginning the day Dom had met Billy in New Zealand. It had eventually evolved to the point where a list seemed easier to manage.

Elijah's list had been quite a lot more deliberate. Dom had begun it with the firm intention of trying to figure Elijah out, get his mind around Elijah. It didn't help that Elijah was sometimes contrary as fuck. Dom suspected that Elijah being a switch had something to do with that. He didn't know any other switches intimately (not that he knew Elijah as intimately as he would have liked), though, so it was all speculation.

He added the word _gentle_ under the column headed with the word sub, then chewed on his pen a bit, considering the word. Then he added it to the column headed with the word general, as well.

"I made coffee," Elijah said from the kitchen doorway, observing Dom from behind the lenses of his supremely ugly glasses. He wasn't entirely awake yet. His hair looked squashed flat on one side and stuck up in improbable tufts on the other. He had sheet-wrinkles impressed into one cheek. He was wearing actual pajamas (a habit Dom had promised himself to break Elijah of someday). They were plaid.

 _Not sexy_ , Dom thought firmly, and wrote _sexy_ under the general list.

He snorted. Love really was blind. Or, at the least, extremely near sighted.

"Those pajamas are disgusting, Elwood," Dom said, snapping his journal closed and tossing it onto an end table already cluttered with bits of Dom's things. Elijah referred to it as: Dom's crap table. He stood up and stretched, feeling his back unkink and his shoulders relax slightly.

Elijah tugged at the hem of his pajama shirt, grinning a little in his dorky I-just-woke-up-and-have-not-yet-imbibed-enough-caffeine-to-bother-with-smacking-you kind of way. "Have you done yoga yet?" he asked, bottom lip practically resting on the rim of his coffee cup. Until he'd had two cups, Dom had noticed, Elijah's mouth never strayed more than two centimeters from the rim of his coffee cup. It was distracting.

"Noooo," Dom said cautiously, and turned sideways to sidle past Elijah into the kitchen. "Why? Been thinking up new names?" He was smiling a little, because it _was_ funny. Elijah was pretty creative, sitting with his knees up under his chin, coffee cup balanced atop them, muttering things like 'downward fucking dog' and 'the plunge! ' and 'seated sex twist' as Dom moved through asanas.

It _was_ pretty funny, and Elijah meant no harm.

And lately, he hadn't been doing it as much. He still watched, which was distracting, but nowhere near as distracting as Billy watching. Billy tended to make little rumbling sounds of approval whenever Dom arranged himself into an asana that Billy liked, and it was extremely difficult to center with his own erect cock jabbing Dom in the belly. Elijah watching wasn't that distracting, and Dom was just sort of grateful that Elijah had pretty much stopped poking fun and just watched quietly for the last several days.

Yoga was difficult for Dom, even on his best days, difficult but necessary. Finding silence, being centered, was never something Dom did easily. It wasn't the physical bits. Dom could twist himself nearly as easily as Elijah could. It hadn't ever been the physical aspect that had drawn him, anyhow.

Yoga was about finding stillness in his mind. It was about occupying the restless parts of his mind and body, so that he could grasp other parts of himself consciously.

It had only taken Billy a few days to understand that. Less than a week, in fact, before Billy had started taking himself elsewhere whenever Dom dragged out his mat.

"No," Elijah said, smiling a little diffidently over the rim of his coffee cup. He looked weirdly bashful. Dom paused, hand on the handle of the coffee pot, both brows arched in question. "Your cup is on the counter," Elijah said, gesturing with his own cup -- but only slightly, because it wouldn't do to have it out of range of his mouth for even a moment -- toward the left.

Dom looked, and found a full cup of coffee occupying his favorite mug (featuring New Zealand's national bird, the exotically ridiculous Kiwi). He didn't have to taste it to know it would have the perfect amount of honey and a pinch of cinnamon in it. It wasn't unusual. Elijah was considerate.

"Ta, Doodle," he murmured, taking the cup between both hands just to feel the heat invade his palms. He raised it close to his face to inhale the fragrant steam. He didn't usually care for milk, so it would still be too hot to drink, but it smelled like heaven.

"Is it okay if I watch, Sblom? The yoga, I mean?"

"You watch every morning, 'Lijah," Dom pointed out, smiling, but Elijah's eyes were still bright and inquisitive, and Dom understood he was asking something different.

"Yeah," Elijah said, and rubbed at his hair with one hand (the other still holding the coffee cup so close to his mouth that his lower lip brushed against it when he spoke), looking oddly embarrassed. "I'm sorry about that."

Dom turned toward Elijah. "It's fine, mate," he said. It was true enough; it hadn't ever bothered Dom enough to send Elijah away, at any rate.

"Yeah," Elijah said, rubbing at his hair again. "I know. But still." He shrugged, so Dom nodded his understanding. "I thought... that is, I wondered if it would bug you if I tried, too." He spun his coffee mug in both hands, concentrating fiercely on it, eyes fixed on the dark liquid inside the cup.

"Tried yoga?" Dom said. He was frowning more from puzzlement than disapproval, but when Elijah's eyes flicked up from his coffee to Dom's face, Dom could almost feel Elijah's dismay. Dom wiped the frown off his face, but too late. Elijah was already turning away, lips curved into a little smile, accepting.

"No, never mind," he said. "It was just curiosity. I probably wouldn't be any good at it anyway."

"No, Elijah--" Dom said, his feet closing the distance between them in three hurried steps. He curled a hand around Elijah's elbow. "You'd be brilliant," he said quickly, and then cursed silently at how his voice sounded, placating and insincere. "I'd like the company," he tried, and that sounded better, more honest. Which was good.

Because it _was_ honest. Dom liked the idea of it. He'd thought about asking Billy a few times, in spite of understanding that it wasn't really the sort of thing Billy would enjoy.

Billy didn't need yoga to get in touch with parts of his mind that eluded him otherwise. Billy was already quite in tune with his mind. Billy did martial arts to let conscious thought go, to find the place within himself where his instincts were clear and trustworthy (or so Dom speculated - they'd never actually discussed it). It was sort of the same thing, except opposite. Disparate, but similar.

So he'd never asked Billy. He liked the idea of sharing this with Elijah, though. Truthfully, he liked the idea of doing nearly anything with Elijah. And he liked it that Elijah wanted to do this _with him_. He could feel his lips curving up into a smile, and he threw an arm around Elijah's shoulders. "Come on, then."

Elijah hesitated. "Yeah?" he asked, hopeful expectation in his tentative smile. And truthfully, even had Dom hated the idea with the same mad loathing he'd felt for Merry's fat suit, he wouldn't have turned Elijah down. The enthusiasm on his face was reason enough.

"We've only got the one mat," Dom said, smile blossoming into a full-blown grin. "So we'll take turns and I can show you basic stuff. And we can go out later and get you a mat of your own."

: : :

The first time Elijah caught him with his cock in his hand was an exercise in horrific embarrassment for both of them.

It was the middle of the night, and Dom should have been relatively safe. Elijah had gone to bed ages before, and Dom had just finished watching some movie on a soft-core porn station. He hadn't ever noticed the name, and didn't really care. When it ended, Dom had a piss and brushed his teeth, the only intention in his head being to crash out immediately upon returning to the living room

Instead, he slumped onto the couch, considered his mostly erect cock, which was poking him in the belly, and then squirmed out of his boxers with barely a thought. He'd been here long enough to think of it as home, and it wasn't like he hadn't wanked on Elijah's couch before.

He was pretty much squarely in the middle of things when Elijah just popped into the living room. Dom hadn't heard him coming; he was alone one moment, and the next Elijah was standing in the living room, about two steps out of the hall, his eyes big and round and dismayed. By the time Dom saw Elijah there, he was already flushed bright red.

"Oh, shite, Elijah," Dom yelped, and scrabbled for his pillow or his boxers, or _something_.

Elijah said nothing (perhaps there just wasn't anything suitable to say when you walked out of your bedroom at two in the morning and got an eyeful of your mate wanking), just spun quickly and retreated back the way he'd come.

"Fuck!" Dom snarled. His cock had beat an abrupt retreat, and it felt like his ears were on fucking fire. "Mental note, you cunt: turn the bloody lights off and get under the sheet _before_ you decide to indulge in recreational tossing off."

The look on Elijah's face stayed with him well into the night, making Dom's face flame with remembered embarrassment. It took him forever to finally fall asleep.

~~

Dom woke up because something hit him on the chest. He opened his eyes to peer at it.

It appeared to be a Cheeto.

As he stared at it, puzzled in a sleepy, lethargic sort of way, another Cheeto flew into his line of sight and landed somewhat lower than the first, balanced precariously on the waistband of his boxers. He followed the Cheeto's trajectory back to its source: Elijah.

He was sitting in the armchair, one arm curled around an enormous sack of Cheetos. Or potential projectiles, depending on how you looked at it.

"What the fuck are you doing, Elijah?" Dom said. Except his tongue wasn't entirely awake yet, and it came out more like: _Whafucdoonlijah?_

Elijah seemed to understand just fine, however. "I'm testing it," he answered. He was frowning and looking at Dom intently, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Dom watched curiously as he tossed another Cheeto. This one landed lower still, pretty much squarely atop Dom's half-awake cock. It teetered there for a moment, then rolled to one side, lost between Dom's body and the couch cushions. "To see if it's hungry."

Dom stared at him, baffled. "If what's hungry?"

"That!" Elijah said, and pointed an accusing finger at Dom.

"What?" Dom demanded, possibly a bit shrilly. He wondered if he were still asleep. Elijah wasn't making anything remotely resembling sense. "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

"That _thing_ ," Elijah repeated, and gave the general area of Dom's crotch a narrow, suspicious glare.

"You've gone right off your nut," Dom said incredulously. It was too fucking early for this shite.

Elijah gave him a haughty look. "Get me some coffee, then."

"Get your own fucking coffee," Dom snapped, frazzled and confused and edging into irritated now. What fucking time was it, anyhow?

"I was trying, but you got all pissy!" Elijah objected, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world to say. He even looked indignant!

"Are you drunk?" Dom demanded. "What in God's name are you talking about, Elijah?"

"I was trying to check and be sure it was safe," Elijah said, sounding not at all drunk, sounding perfectly bloody reasonable, except he was making no fucking sense. Dom ground his teeth together and took several deep breaths. "It didn't look very friendly the last time I saw it," Elijah said.

Dom said nothing for several heartbeats; then: "The last time you saw it." His cock. Elijah was talking about his cock. Last night, Elijah had caught him wanking, and now they were having a conversation about Dom's cock. Dom felt the nearly overwhelming urge to pinch himself. This could simply not be happening.

"It was drooling, too," Elijah said, and he was smirking a little, smug little curl of lips at Dom's sudden understanding and the heated flush Dom could feel creeping up his neck and face. "I think it could be rabid. And since I've got to pass by it to get to the coffee maker, I thought I should just be sure it wasn't going to attack me or anything."

Dom said nothing. Elijah gave him a Very Evil Grin.

"I," Dom said flatly, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch and sitting up, "am going to kick your arse, Elwood."

He stood up, but Elijah was already careening down the hallway, shouting: "Noooo, keep it away! Run for your lives! Women and Frodo first!"

Dom reached Elijah's bedroom door just as the lock clicked. He could hear Elijah howling with mock terror interspersed with nearly hysterical laughter. Dom whammed his fist into the door once, hard, and Elijah shrieked from inside the bedroom.

"We're dooooooooomed! Penis of the Apocalypse! No one will make it out alive!" Elijah wailed.

"I hate you, Elwood," Dom growled, but he could already feel the laughter bubbling up in his own chest, could already tell he wasn't going to be able to contain it, and he thought: _I fucking love you, Elwood._

Because real love was definitely catching your best mate wanking and taking all the stinging humiliation out of it by mocking him mercilessly.

: : :

Dom missed Billy, of course. Sometimes it was a low-grade ache, something he was always aware of, but that he could deal with by distracting himself. Sometimes it was huge and throbbing and present, and he couldn't fucking exist _one more minute_ without seeing Billy. Then he'd end up on a plane without a carry-on bag, and show up on Billy's doorstep at 3 in the morning with nothing but a sheepish smile and a case of beer.

And Billy visited them, too.

: : :

"Monaghan," Dom said, and for a long moment, there was only breathing on the other end of the phone. Dom listened to it for a moment -- slow and even, but strangely loud -- and then pulled the phone away from his ear to check the number on the display.

Bugger.

He mentally kicked himself for not checking the number before answering his mobile.

He stopped walking (and was aware of Billy stopping beside him, both brows raised in question, but he ignored it for the time being), mind racing. He considered pretending to be his own voice mail, but it was probably too late for that. "Hello?" he said, and the silence on the other end of the line was a Very Bad Sign.

Elijah did not fly off the handle often, but when he did... Well, it wasn't fucking pretty. "I'm hanging up now," he said, and was about to do so (rather gratefully) when Elijah finally said something.

"Don't. You. Dare." It was somewhere between a whisper and a snarl.

Dom glanced at Billy. Billy looked back, question in his eyes, but otherwise relaxed, waiting.

"Elijah!" Dom said, trying for surprised and cheerful.

"Shite," Billy muttered. He caught Dom's elbow and guided him into the doorway of a shop. The street was fairly empty this time of night, but it wouldn't do to stand about and make targets of themselves. Not in this part of town. Not dressed as they were.

"All right, mate?" Dom asked stupidly, because he couldn't think of what else to say. Billy rolled his eyes, and Dom shrugged helplessly. "How's New York, then?" Although Elijah was not _in_ New York, Dom knew, because the number on his mobile clearly indicated that Elijah was calling from Elijah's place. Which Dom would have known if he'd bothered to look _before_ he'd answered. In which case he wouldn't have answered at all. Because things were not as Elijah had left them, and Dom would have bloody well known that he did not want to talk to Elijah.

"I am at my house, Dominic," Elijah said tightly. Dom pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He could see Billy beside him, eyes scanning the street, but head cocked toward the conversation. "I am at my house, Dominic. And guess what _isn't_ _here_."

"Um," Dom said.

"My bed, Dominic. I'm here, and I'm tired because I am jetlagged as fuck, and I just want to go to sleep, and my bed is _not_ _here_."

"Um," Dom said again (Billy was grinning at Dom's obvious dismay, the heartless tosser). "Well, you see... Well, Elijah, there was a bit of a problem with that bed."

Billy snickered. Dom glared at him.

"A bit of a problem," Elijah repeated forbiddingly.

"Um," Dom said yet again, this time because he was genuinely distracted. Billy was toying idly with the zip of Dom's leather trousers, smirking with amusement, and breathing on Dom's neck. Dom tried to shove him back, but Billy just shifted and set his weight, and Dom knew better. He was actually a bit broader than Billy, just a touch taller, but when Billy set himself, he was the quintessential immovable object.

Stupid Jeet Kune Do.

"If you say that one more time, I'm going to fucking kill you, Monaghan," Elijah hissed. "What the fuck did you do with my bed, you completely insane _fuck!_ "

Dom swallowed back an 'um'. Billy's hand slid down and curled around the bulge in Dom's trousers, and it was very fucking distracting. Dom tried to bat Billy's hand away, but Billy merely twisted his body so that Dom couldn't reach his hand between the two of them, and carried on with what he was doing. "It was an accident," Dom blurted out.

Billy chuckled -- Dom could feel it, though it was almost silent -- and Dom was tempted to kick him. This was as much Billy's fault as it was his. More, even, because Dom had been pretty much helpless when it had happened. Definitely Billy's fault.

"What was an accident?" Elijah growled.

It was probably not Elijah's intention that the sound of his furious growl in Dom's ear, combined with Billy's hand tracing the outline of his cock through leather that was becoming increasingly snug, was sending heat twisting through Dom's groin to tighten his balls.

"Can I ring you back, 'Lijah?" Dom muttered, struggling to maintain an even tone. No panting into the mouthpiece. No. And that would really piss Elijah off. Yes. Because Elijah wasn't stupid by any means. He knew Dom was out, knew he was with Billy, and if Dom started panting into the phone, Elijah would figure out what the hell was going on, and he would go absolutely nutters.

"If you hang up," Elijah said, "I will take every last thing you own out back and have a fucking barbeque!"

Dom didn't hang up. He did hold the mouthpiece of the mobile against his shoulder to hiss: "Knock it off, Boyd, you wanker!" Billy grinned, licked Dom's chin, and otherwise ignored him.

"...happened to my goddamned bed!" Elijah was saying when Dom gave up trying to stop Billy and brought the phone back to his ear.

"It... ah... well, it broke," Dom said.

Billy was practically vibrating with laughter, pressed up against one side of Dom.

Dom hated Billy.

"You broke my bed," Elijah said flatly, and Dom discovered -- much to his own astonishment -- that he could think of several excellent ways of shutting Elijah up right now. And abruptly, the guilty, awkward feeling Dom had been nursing (he really did feel bad about the whole bed thing) was gone, and he was thinking about Elijah's mouth (angry, hissing voice, Elijah sounded so bloody sexy when he was furious), shutting Elijah's mouth, doing it like Billy shut Dom's mouth when Dom was being particularly recalcitrant, with lips and hands and cock.

"It was an accident," Dom repeated, and bit his bottom lip at the way his voice sounded, deep and husky and not at all sorry. He was aware that he was going to end up provoking Elijah, but Billy's hand was carefully drawing down Dom's zip, and thinking clearly was becoming really and truly difficult. "We... uh, that is, I… It broke." Billy's body was shielding Dom from the street, and the voices of people walking and talking and laughing sounded very far away. Which, of course, they weren't. They were actually quite close, and Billy was clearly the devil. "The new one should be delivered tomorrow," Dom offered, and was relieved that his voice sounded slightly less like a porn star's on-screen seduction monologue.

Elijah said nothing. Billy's hand pushed its insistent way into the front of Dom's trousers and curled around Dom's aching cock. Dom let his head thump back against the wall, breathing heavily through his mouth and holding the phone upside down, keeping the receiver away from his mouth. "Don't," Dom whispered, and was fully aware that he was not being terribly convincing. Especially not with his hips moving, compelled into motion by the rhythm of Billy's hand. Especially because Dom could almost hear Elijah's voice in the silence on the other end of the phone, could almost _hear_ what it would sound like once the anger had been scoured out of it, could imagine how Elijah would sound, breathing hard and gasping with need.

"You and Billy broke my bed," Elijah said, interrupting Dom's train of thought -- probably a good thing -- with his real voice, which sounded genuinely aghast. Dom might have laughed, except he fucking knew better than to bait a top (not that this always stopped him), even one like Elijah, who didn't know what he was yet. And because his breath was caught somewhere in his chest at the feeling of Billy's hand working around his cock, slow and steady pressure, Billy's grip just a little too hard to be completely pleasurable. Dom was trying very hard not to squirm -- Billy would only tighten his grip, and then Dom ran the risk of whimpering into the phone -- and Billy had his mouth pressed right up against Dom's neck. He wasn't doing anything but breathing, which was bad enough, but it was just a matter of time. Billy bit. Billy was _going_ to bite. It was inevitable, like tides. "You-- " Elijah began, and then stopped, like he couldn't quite come up with something that expressed the full range of his anger. "You fucking cunts!"

"Sorry," Dom gasped just as Billy twisted his wrist, grip firming, too much friction, setting Dom's thighs to shuddering.

"Dom," Elijah said sharply. "What the fuck are you doing?"

 _Getting a hand job in downtown Los Angeles from a Scottish bloke wearing leather trousers and a shirt that I want to tear off of him with my fucking teeth_ , Dom thought giddily, and he was sure Elijah's face would go all soft and open with surprise if he were to actually _say_ that. He did not. What he meant to say ( _I'm not doing anything_ , or something to that effect) died on his lips, however, when Billy finally _did_ bite, and all that escaped was a soft groan.

Oops.

"Dom?" Elijah's voice now sounded both suspicious and concerned.

Dom couldn't speak.

Billy snagged the phone out of Dom's sweaty fingers with the hand not presently occupied in Dom's trousers. Dom let both of his hands fall to his sides, pressing them against the cool brick behind him to support himself.

"Elijah," Billy said, his hand moving steadily around Dom's cock, his voice completely normal.

Dom hated Billy.

Billy regarded Dom steadily while he talked to Elijah, lips curved up into a satisfied smirk. Dom wanted to bite Billy's lips. "No, we've been out. Dom's had a tetch too much..." Billy paused, lips twisting into a sneer, hand tightening brutally around Dom's cock. "...excitement. He'll be fine." Dom rolled his eyes and struggled not to make a sound. "No, you don't need to do that. He's all right; I've got him. I'll get a taxi. "

Dom rolled his eyes again (Just how the hell did that happen, then? Why was it that Elijah was spitting fury at Dom one moment, and then offering Billy a lift home? Bah! ), and Billy's hand in his trousers adjusted its speed to match the rocking of Dom's hips. Dom had no idea when he'd started bucking into Billy's hand, but he wasn't going to stop now.

"It was more my fault than his," Billy was saying (which, Dom thought blearily, was most certainly true). "We should have told you, but it seemed fairly pointless after the fact, 'Lijah."

Dom could hear himself gasping, open-mouthed and urgent, and Billy's hand had started twisting (Dom couldn't decide if he wished he'd never showed Billy that twist, courtesy of Elijah, or if he was eternally grateful to Elijah for providing the example), and even though Dom's eyes were open, watching Billy, he could still _see_ Elijah in his mind, head back, wet skin, hips in motion, and he had no doubt that it was exactly what Billy meant Dom to be thinking about. Dom was tight and thrumming now, whole body tense and twitching with tiny, pleasure-driven spasms, and his thighs passed the shuddering phase and moved into the absolutely motionless phase, stilling Dom's breath, stilling, even, the rocking of his hips.

"I need to get Dom home, Elijah," Billy said, eyes narrowed and intent on Dom's face. "Unless you'd rather we got a hotel... No, don't be sorry. You've every right to be put out." He grinned, wolf-like, and Dom's lips twisted into an answering snarl. "We behaved badly. It was very thoughtless of us." Close, Dom couldn't hold his eyes open, and he could feel Billy's heat, pressed along his left side, could feel Billy's cock, jabbing him in the hip through two layers of leather. "All right, 'Lijah. No, I said it's fine; we'll get a taxi home. You go off to bed. We'll see you tomorrow. No, 'Lijah, we've been sleeping on the floor anyhow. Right, we'll ring you at your mum's. Tomorrow, then."

Billy flipped the mobile closed one-handed, and then he was kissing Dom, mouth fierce and relentless, teeth sharp and wicked. Dom tasted blood (his own), sharp tang of salt and metal, and he grunted into Billy's mouth, trembling now, between the wall and Billy's body. Billy's hand tightened again, coaxing a whimper from Dom's throat, another long, excruciating stroke, and Dom was going to come, going to fly apart, going to burn up from the inside, and Billy withdrew his hand.

Dom gaped at him, mouth open in genuine astonishment (though he knew he shouldn't be surprised, not really), but before he could actually articulate some sort of objection, Billy was walking away, moving toward the curb, head swiveling as he looked up and down the street.

"Oh," Dom breathed, curling his shaking hands into fists to still them. "You bloody _bastard_." He turned his back to the street -- there weren't many people out, but there were some -- and pressed his palms up against the glass of the storefront, fingers splayed, trying to just calm down a little, just back off the ledge Billy had left him on. "Oh, you evil fucking wanker," he muttered. He considered taking care of it himself -- two bloody strokes would be enough -- but he couldn't quite manage to convince himself to do it. Not here, not on the street, even with his back turned. He could hear people close by, and Billy was still there. And God help him, should Billy fucking catch him doing it.

So he struggled to get his trousers fastened -- the fucking things were tight before his cock contained half the blood supply in his entire body -- over his straining erection, muttering: "Fucker, fucking bastard, Scottish cunt, teasing prick," under his breath.

When he turned back toward the street, Billy had his arm up. There was no point pulling his shirt down to conceal the bulge at his groin. The shirt Dom was wearing didn't cover much of his chest; it was useless for any other sort of concealment. "Son of a cunting prick," he growled, and jogged over to where Billy had successfully flagged down a taxi (in the very small hours of the morning, in downtown L. A., while wearing enough leather to make up an entire bloody cow, damn the man and his uncanny luck), and was ducking into the back seat.

Dom joined him, still muttering under his breath. He didn't bother to ask why.

He knew why, after all.

Obviously, Billy Boyd was Satan.

The cab smelled like Elijah's car: old cigarettes, old cologne, and old smog. The vinyl seats were textured, and made noises when Dom shifted uncomfortably, slouched in the seat with his thighs wide open, trying to find a way to sit that didn't strangle his cock inside his too-tight trousers. Billy gave the address, and Dom looked out the window and sulked.

"Dom," Billy murmured into Dom's ear a few minutes later, startling him rather badly. He turned his head to find his face about an inch from Billy's, close enough to feel Billy's breath on his lips. Billy's eyes were all glittering amusement.

"What?" Dom said. His sulkiness was already evaporating, and Dom didn't try very hard to hold on to it. He recognized the look on Billy's face. It made Dom's tongue dart out and jab at the new cut on his bottom lip. That same expression had led to Billy discovering that Dom burned hot with humiliation when Dom touched himself in front of Billy.

"When I had my hand on your cock, and Elijah's voice was in your ear, furious and sharp, did you think about him fucking you?" Billy's voice was a warm, low drawl. "Did it even cross your mind, Dom? Elijah taking his anger out on your body? Punishing you?"

Billy wasn't touching him, but he was very close. Dom could smell leather and beer and sweat from dancing on Billy's skin. His eyes were dark green and guarded. He still looked amused, but his tone didn't sound amused. Dom shook his head. Billy's eyes flickergleamed, but Dom couldn't tell if it was surprise, or something else. He had told the truth, though. He hadn't been thinking that at all.

"No," Billy purred, bringing big cats to Dom's mind again, the sort that paced back in forth in small, reinforced glass enclosures at the zoo, and had signs on their cages that said: "Do Not Bang On Glass." It made Dom smile a little, because he spent a good deal of time banging on Billy's glass. "I saw your face."

Dom nodded. He felt a little bemused at the way Billy was looking at him; it was a strange combination of things, hard to decipher even for Billy, who was never what you would call easy to read. Still a little amusement there, but also something that looked a bit like concern, along with curiosity (of the mad scientist sort, Dom thought, shifting nervously) and maybe a little surprise in the arch of his brows. "I..." he began, and then had to stop and clear his throat. But he still sounded hoarse to himself when he spoke again. "I was thinking about shutting him up." Dom watched the curiosity flicker more strongly on Billy's face for a moment. Dom's eyes wanted to focus on Billy's faintly smiling mouth. He tugged them away and looked at the back of the seat in front of him instead.

"How?" Billy prompted, but it was quiet. Not commanding, not demanding, and Dom looked at him again, feeling the frown on his face. But he couldn't read Billy's expression now. Billy had that neutral thing happening, nothing showing but what he wanted Dom to see.

"My... my hands," he said, surprised to hear himself stammer (though Billy didn't look surprised, Billy was still expressionless). "My mouth, and my hands..." He paused, because he had never been articulate the way that Billy usually was, and the way even Elijah often was. He rarely knew how to say what he meant. But he could feel words there, sitting on the back of his tongue, occupying his throat. He didn't know what they were, what would come out when he opened his mouth. And maybe a little self-control would be a good idea here.

"I'd like to know," Billy said, still not an order, just a simple statement of fact, and Dom found, abruptly, that he couldn't deny that any more than he could deny the things that Billy _did_ demand.

"I wanted... no. I _want_ to shut him up. He sounds so fucking sexy when he's pissed off, I can feel his dominance, but..." He shifted, looked out the window. "When I saw him in the shower, I wanted him like that. I _want_ him like that, too."

"And that was your first reaction to hearing him angry," Billy murmured, not really a question. A statement, something Billy found interesting.

Something Dom found interesting, too, in fact. Something he had not really considered or expected. He had understood, of course, that Elijah was a switch, understood that the possibility was there. He'd even verbalized that possibility once, though Dom didn't know whether he had truly believed either of those things when he had said them. Or maybe he had, maybe he had known them to be true without thinking, which Billy would probably take as another example of Dom's instincts, his grasp on things that were not immediately obvious to most people. Dom didn't think of it that way, though, because those things... he didn't really _know_ them, until he needed to. It was like puzzle pieces in his head that didn't come together until a situation presented itself in which he needed to know the answers. He didn't think deliberately the way that Billy did. Instead, he had moments of very clear understanding, interspersed with hours or days in which he didn't consciously think about things at all.

Except he was thinking, right now, and maybe Billy was rubbing off on him?

Even now, he couldn't imagine Elijah topping Billy. He could recognize the possibility without being able to accept the reality of it, in his mind.

But himself topping Elijah...

"I wanted to shut him up," he muttered. "Wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe, make him whimper, and then muffle the whimpers with my hand, with my cock. Wanted to see him on his knees, Bill." He turned toward Billy, who was sitting very still, very calm, watching him with eyes that understood precisely. "Want to take him, want to have him. Want to hear him beg." He was breathing hard, and he could fucking imagine every word he was saying, was seeing it in his mind as it spilled from his lips, Elijah on his fucking knees, Elijah's mouth wrapped around his cock, Elijah beneath him, arching and writhing and needy, and he could do that. Not his usual thing, maybe, not what he wanted from Billy, but he could do it to Elijah, and Elijah could do it to _him_.

And that... that was fucking seductive.

"I want" he said, but didn't -- couldn't -- finish it, because there was so much, too much, and he had rarely felt like this, felt this need to take.

"Want to top him? Or just want to fuck him?" Billy's voice was the barest of murmurs, spoken right up against Dom's ear.

"Both," Dom growled. " _Fuck_ , both." Then he smirked a little. "But I'd settle for fucking him."

"Would you settle for fucking me?"

Dom meant to look around rather sharply; instead, it felt impossibly slow. He could almost hear the tendons in his neck creak. Billy's face was mostly in shadow; Dom couldn't make out his expression. He could smell Billy again, had been smelling him all night, but the leatherbeersweatsex was suddenly very immediate, very present, spiking into his awareness like a slap or a caress, or both, sending the same sort of craving straight to his groin, which certainly didn't need any more lust signals in the state it was in. Billy wasn't smiling though, Dom could see that much. He looked quite serious.

 _Is that an offer, then?_ Dom thought. He was intensely aware of the places where Billy was almost pressed against him (hip and thigh and the whole length of his left arm). He didn't move, and he didn't speak, because the urge was there (just fucking fall on him, push him down, feel Billy under him, hard and hot and willing), but he wasn't sure about the offer. He wasn't sure if it _was_ an offer, and he couldn't quite make himself ask.

Letting himself want it if Billy _didn't_ would be a recipe for disaster. And he understood all too well why Billy might not want it.

"Why didn't you say something, Dom?"

Dom shrugged with his right shoulder (if he moved his left, it would press up against Billy's chest). "Not really your thing is it, Bills?" His voice was shaking. _I'd cut off my own arm before I'd do anything that would make you close down on me,_ he thought.

" _Subbing_ is not my thing," Billy said. "I'm not Elijah. I don't switch. Not like that." Billy smiled faintly, and Dom felt tension he hadn't been aware of seep slowly out of his muscles. "But if you want to fuck me, Dommie --" he arched a brow, and leaned closer, pressed against Dom's left side so that he could feel Billy's heat, "-- _that_ can be arranged."

 _He's gonna let me_ , Dom thought, and felt the understanding of it shift the muscles in his face into something that reflected the fierce want he had been trying to suppress. He'd never been all that good at suppressing anyway. His cock felt like it'd been dipped in molten metal, and there were hurried, rough hands at work on the zip of his trousers. _Gonna fuck him_ tumbled across his mind, which was moving a bit too quickly to be altogether coherent.

He didn't realize that the hands on his zip were, in fact, his own, until Billy rested a hand on top of both of Dom's, stilling them. He looked at Billy, and Billy very slowly arched a brow. Dom could feel his face and neck burning.

Billy smiled knowingly.

Dom curled his hands around his knees and willed them to stay there until he told them otherwise. But he couldn't take his eyes off of Billy. This never seemed to bother Billy unduly; he just returned Dom's regard with calm consideration. Dom wondered what Billy would look like when he came with Dom's cock inside him, and then hurriedly banished that thought to the furthest reaches of his brain.

It was actually fairly easy to do. Billy was the single most dominant person Dom had ever met. It made it hard to get his mind around the idea of Billy taking it (although, God help him, he was bloody hoping to have a clearer idea of how that worked come morning), even knowing that Billy had, at some point, done it.

And he didn't want to control Billy; he was infinitely satisfied with Billy's control over _him_.

But, holy bleeding Christ, he wanted to fuck Billy raw. He wanted to find out what Billy sounded like when he was bloody _taking it_ , he wanted to see Billy come, feel Billy tighten and shudder around Dom's cock. He could see _that_ in his mind in a way that he couldn't ever picture Billy subbing, could imagine the feel of it, _fuckohfuck_ , he could.

"You should see the look on your face," Billy mused, and Dom let out a little rumbly growl, completely without design. Billy smiled, a slow shift of expression.

 _You'll do things for someone you love, someone you want, that you would never ever do otherwise, just because he wants you to_.

And fucking shite, Dom really hadn't wanted to remember that right now.

He bit his lip and looked toward the window, gaze unfocused. He hadn't wanted to remember that at all. Now that he had, he had no choice but to consider it. Because -- _damn it all to bloody hell_ \-- no matter how much he wanted to fuck Billy ( _don't think about it, don't think about it, do not, under any circumstances, allow your mind to summon a mental porn flick featuring Billy Boyd taking it, you masochistic wanker_ ), he didn't want to do anything that Billy didn't want.

He didn't want to be the one for whom Billy did things Billy would never, ever do otherwise.

"You don't have to do this for me, Bill," Dom said softly, unable to bring himself to look away from the window. He didn't want Billy to see his face, didn't want him to make decisions based on what he might see there.

"Wanker," Billy said affectionately, surprising Dom into turning toward him. Billy was grinning, relaxed and amused. He slid a hand into Dom's lap and pressed the heel of his palm forcefully against the ridge of Dom's cock through his trousers, and Dom was grinding up and into the pressure before he could stop himself. Billy smirked and cocked his head to one side. "I don't do anything I don't want to do, Dom," he said. He was smiling, but his eyes were serious.

The taxi stopped, but neither of them moved.

"It isn't something I've done terribly often, Dominic, and it isn't something I do with just anyone. But I assure you, I can take it, when the mood strikes me."

 _Take it_ , Dom's brain repeated the phrase in Billy's voice, and Dom knew he how he must look, was sure lust had leeched anything even remotely resembling intelligence from his face, but he couldn't school his features into anything less obvious. Billy laughed and pressed hard, and Dom was mortified to hear himself whine softly.

Then Billy was out of the taxi and halfway up the walk, leaving Dom to curse and grope for his wallet while the taxi driver watched him with bored impatience.

He fumbled too many bills into the man's hands, his eyes fixed on Billy's arse ( _gonna fuck him_ ) in his leather trousers. He jogged to catch up, in spite of the fact that it was rather painful to jog with his cock in its current state.

There were lights on inside the guesthouse, but Dom didn't think anything of it. Elijah had probably left them on for Dom and Billy, considerate little bugger that he was. He stopped behind Billy and curled his fingers around Billy's hips ( _gonna fuck him_ ), pulling him back against the ridge in Dom's trousers (Billy let him, chuckling), and hoping to get a bit more used to the idea, hoping some of the urgency would wear off.

He jerked his shirt off just inside the door, intending to go for Billy's shirt next, but then Billy was kissing him, pressing him back against the door (Dom heard the click of the lock turn). He fumbled at Billy's shirt, but his fingers were useless without direction from his brain, and his brain was otherwise engaged, mostly in marveling that there was any breathing going on when his mouth was full of Billy's tongue. Dom's heart was beating like a snare drum, too fast, feeling almost arrhythmic, and Billy's cock pressed up against his was enough to reassure him that this was good, this was okay with Billy. He felt the cut on his lip break open under Billy's teeth, sharp, needling pain and tasted blood again (Billy growled and ground against him, and Dom thought of how sharks could smell blood in the water miles away, and how it made them go mad). 'It only fueled the urgent heat in his balls and he almost didn't understand Billy's mutter between the sound of their breathing and the way his voice was muffled against Dom's lips.

"The table, on the fucking table, Dommie."

"Fuck, yes!" he agreed once he did understand, and took advantage of the momentary separation to relieve Billy of his shirt.

Dom's hands were on Billy's zip, and they'd staggered about halfway to the kitchen table, kissing the whole time, when Elijah announced his presence.

"I do not want to know," Elijah said quietly, "if you've ever fucked on my kitchen table before."

Billy went still and tense against him, and they both turned to look.

Elijah was on the couch, legs curled up tailor fashion. He was holding a beer in one hand and a lit cigarette (which Dom could now smell) in the other. He was smirking at them, eyes glittering amusement.

Dom's cock jerked in his trousers, and he inhaled shakily.

"I almost didn't say anything," Elijah said conversationally. "I'm fairly sure I could have got away with it, too." The smirk curling his lips widened, and Dom watched it, fascinated. Who was this, then? And what had he done with Elijah?

"Aye," Billy said. His voice was hoarse, and his accent was thick enough to fucking cut. Dom's cock jerked in his trousers again, and Elijah's attention swiveled to Billy and fixed there. Billy's chin went up, and he looked back at Elijah intently, bristling challenge and sex, which Dom was quite sure was unintentional; Billy was generally much more controlled than that. "Most likely."

 _I'm going to pass out from top overload_ , he thought faintly, and shivered.

Elijah stood up, swaying a little. He set his beer down on the end table, and carefully stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He was unsteady on his feet, but only slightly. A little drunk. Which probably explained why he was reacting as he was, instead of stammering and bolting.

Everyone was a little braver while pissed.

"I'll just be leaving," he said, navigating his way cautiously around the coffee table and toward the front door. "I'd hug you, but," he gestured at them, still smirking. "I don't want to get sucked into your sexual tension."

Billy laughed softly. Dom found he couldn't really do anything but stare and bite down on his tongue, which had all sorts of things to say, most of them starting with 'Fuck me'.

"I made you a pallet. In the bedroom." Elijah pointed, in case they'd forgotten where the bedroom was, apparently. "Where my bed is _not_." He smirked, and Dom could feel him, could see ( _don't check him out, don't, oh bugger will you fucking look at that_ ) the energy behind his eyes, could see the ridge of Elijah's cock pressing against the zip of his jeans. "And I suspect I now know why. I suggest you use it." He glared at them, and he was too pissed to hide the fact that he checked both of them out quite thoroughly. "No kitchen table sex. Absolutely not. I have to eat off of that thing."

Then he was gone, and Billy and Dom were just looking at one another, and Dom's head felt a little swimmy at the whole encounter. It felt like two minutes in the Twilight Zone, the whole thing shimmering and unreal. He couldn't pin down what he was thinking; between the glitter in Billy's eyes and the memory of the smirk on Elijah's lips, he felt like he was on the verge of a mental orgasm.

"Little bastard is a hell of a lot braver with a few beers in him," Billy noted, and Dom felt the twisting sense of unreality fall away a little at the amusement in Billy's tone.

"Yeah," he agreed, and realized that his hands were still grasping the waist of Billy's trousers, two fingers still curled around the zip. Which Elijah must have seen, considering the attention he'd paid to both of them.

Billy slid his hands around Dom's and pushed them away, and Dom took a step back so he could watch Billy draw down his zip and free his cock. The sight of it -- Billy still clad in boots and black leather trousers, open and framing dark hair and the flushed, full weight of Billy's cock --- was enough to make Dom prickle with heat from head to toe. He fleetingly wondered how Elijah would have reacted to it ( _would the sight of it spark Elijah's top instincts, or his sub instincts? What an interesting question_ ), but he didn't really have enough concentration to consider it for long.

He could feel Billy watching him, but his eyes were drawn and held by the leatherskincock below Billy's navel. He licked at his lips as he contemplated it, and the sight drew forth a powerful sense memory of the way it would smell, should he drop to his knees to suck Billy's cock right now. The sharp smell of the leather combined with the sweat from Billy's skin (Dom could almost feel Billy's fingertips ghosting over the back of his neck, and it sent shivers tremoring down his back and his fingers curled as if grasping Billy's thighs for balance), and it was almost enough to make him decide he could fuck Billy another time, because sucking Billy's cock was fucking brilliant, always, with Billy all silent, rigid tension and that moment where it changed from Dom sucking Billy to Billy fucking Dom's mouth, when Dom was empty of all thought and filled only with the need to fucking taste him, feel him tighten and tremor and break.

It was almost enough.

But then Billy bent and started taking off his boots and Dom stared down at the curve of his spine from above, thinking about how it would look, Jesus, how it would fucking _look_ to see it from behind, instead. Boots discarded, Billy rose back to his feet and gave Dom a look that was both amused and tender as Dom's eyes performed a three-stage inventory, Billy's face, Billy's cock framed by leather, and Billy's naked feet, small and white below the dark cuffs of his trousers. "Lube, Dommie," Billy said softly, and Dom pulled his attention back to Billy's face. "I'm not letting you fuck me dry with that thing." Billy's lips quirked into a slightly sardonic smile as he eyed the bulge at Dom's crotch with arched brows.

Dom turned away in search of his carrier bag, which was good, actually, helped clear his mind and give him a little distance. He pulled at his own boots with one hand as he rummaged with the other (whoa, who would have thought he had enough mind left to fucking multi-task?), and located the lube just as he managed to drag the boot off his left foot. He paused to get rid of his right boot as well, and when he glanced at Billy he saw that Billy had already kicked his trousers off, and was eyeing Dom's arse with an openly appreciative expression that made Dom grin.

Dom shucked his trousers next to the couch -- his cock bobbing enthusiastically at the abrupt freedom -- before returning to where Billy was standing with the bottle of lube curled into his right palm. _Gonna fuck him,_ Dom thought for probably the millionth time since the offer had been made, a combination of amazement and anticipation, and it was a bit like looking at Billy for the first time. Dom let his eyes slide down Billy's body, let his fingertips slide across the slender, tightly muscled breadth of Billy's chest so he could feel the soft-crisp curl of the hair there, as he considered the sharpness of Billy's hipbones and the thick muscles of Billy's calves with his eyes.

He jumped slightly when Billy slid a hand around his cock, and Billy's expression was interesting, not something Dom was used to seeing on Billy's face during sex. He was looking at Dom's cock as though considering it, brows drawn into a thoughtful semi-frown, as though pondering the logistics. Which Dom thought, was probably pretty much what Billy was doing, and it was simultaneously slightly funny and exhilarating, hot, watching Billy contemplate Dom's size for such a reason, and Dom's cock responded by jerking in Billy's hand. Billy glanced up at Dom and grinned slightly, eyes bright and open and, yes, anticipating, Dom was certain of it.

Which only made it fucking better, fuck yeah, and he was again nearly trembling with the desire to feel Billy around him, to hear what Billy sounded like, fuck, and he tilted his head and kissed Billy hard, felt Billy's soft lower lip between his teeth, felt Billy let his head fall back slightly, and that alone was enough to send a tremor of painful, jolting _need_ directly to Dom's balls, which tightened agonizingly. "Gonna fuck you, Bills," he murmured against Billy's lips, and Billy's lips curved but opened obligingly for Dom's tongue, and he didn't resist even slightly when Dom wrapped his free hand around Billy's hip and pulled them together, tight, to feel their cocks sliding against one another pinned between their bellies. Dom pushed Billy back until they bumped against the edge of the table (the table moved slightly when Billy's arse pushed up against it, the legs scraping loudly across the tile of the floor), and Billy's hands were exploring Dom's chest, the sides of his thumbs glancing across Dom's collarbones and then down to his nipples, brushing lightly, then applying a bit of pressure that made Dom exhale loudly against Billy's mouth. "Like this?" Dom asked -- he couldn't imagine not asking, couldn't imagine just positioning Billy and pushing in, even now. His voice was a low thrum of want that vibrated in his throat.

"No, let me turn," Billy breathed, and pushed Dom back just enough to turn around. He looked back over his shoulder at Dom, smiling with glittering, calculated amusement, and bent deliberately over the table, hands curled around either side.

Dom's breath pushed out of his throat with a slow, unsteady sound that was equal parts sigh and moan. His hands were working on the cap of the lube without having received instructions from Dom's brain ( _body over mind_ , Dom thought, faintly amused in a distant sort of way) as far as Dom could tell, since he'd apparently left his brain with his trousers, crumpled into a pile by the couch in the living room. Billy was watching him, patient but intent, as Dom slicked up his fingers, and Billy's back was tense and motionless.

Dom had done this before (usually with Billy's cock bumping up against the back of Dom's throat), but it was different this way, and Billy hissed softly as Dom pushed a finger into him, eyes dropping half-closed, brows pulling together into a tiny frown. Dom's hand was shaking slightly as he opened Billy (who needed it more than anyone Dom had ever fucked, Billy was fucking _tight_ ) slowly, adding another finger, twisting and pushing until he heard Billy exhale sharply, his head dropping down so that he was no longer looking at Dom, and the tension in Billy's back melted and softened. Dom's thighs were shaking slightly at the fucking sight of it, and he did it again just to hear Billy breathe out, hear the soft "ahh" of pleasure that did ridiculous fucking things to Dom's cock, and made Dom's mouth dry with desire and his chest constrict with fierce tenderness.

"Christ," Dom breathed, enthralled by the sound, fucking _enamored_ of it, and he wanted to hear it again and again, wanted to hear it grow gradually louder and more fervent, force it to evolve into a moan, a groan, a fucking _cry_.

"Quit fucking around, Dominic," Billy breathed, shaking Dom out of his absorption. "Quit fucking around and fucking _do_ it."

And it was Dom who groaned, not Billy, because knowing that he was going to do it was fucking different than drizzling lube onto his cock left-handed, slicking himself up in preparation; knowing he was going to do it was different than sliding his fingers out of Billy and lining his cock up, and he felt dizzyhotlost just looking at his cock pressed up against Billy, just fucking contemplating pushing forward, _in_ , fucking him, taking him, and he was fucking shaking with both want and nerves, with the curve of Billy's hip pressing into one hand and the weight of his own cock in the other.

"It's okay," Billy whispered gently. "I want it, Dom. It's okay."

 _Okay_ , Dom thought giddily, _it's okay_ , and Billy wouldn't lie to him, so it must be, so he pushed against the resistance, pushed and felt Billy's body give, and he couldn't keep back a strangled little wail at the feel, jesusthefuckingfeelofit, the heat, jesusfuck, and Billy shifted slightly, legs going a little further apart, back arching accommodatingly. Dom could feel whimpers fluttering in his throat that he absolutely refused to release, there was no way he was fucking whimpering when he was the one doing the actual fucking, and when he was in, deeply fucking inside, he stopped to breathe, stopped to try and recover some equilibrium, his head bowed so that Billy's strong back filled his vision, hands curled tightly, clenching around Billy's angular hips.

"Don't stop now," Billy growled, and Dom was fucking hypnotized, fucking _mesmerized_ by the combination of Billy's low, threatening voice and the feel of Billy's body, being _inside_ Billy, excruciatingly hot and virgin-fucking-tight ( _jesuschrist_ ), and by the sight of Billy before him (yes, before him, because _under_ him just wasn't right, not in any sense, and Dom knew that it would never be, and he was glad, deeply, _fiercely_ glad). Billy's hands were clenched tight around the edges of the table, his back absolutely straight, unyielding -- but nearly vibrating with tension or expectation -- head tilted back (and Dom could imagine his face, twisted into a snarl), sweat shining along the perfect line of his spine.

He was afraid to fucking move. The idea of fucking Billy was shockingly intense by itself, but it was nothing compared to the reality. Tight, God, Billy was ( _unbelievably, impossibly, unimaginably_ ) tight around Dom's cock, hot, fucking velvet-fire pressure, and if he moved he would come, he didn't doubt it for an instant, and he wanted desperately for this to be _good_ for Billy.

"Jesus," he gasped, sweat stinging in his eyes, thighs already tensing and trembling. "Christ, Jesus, you're fucking..." _tight_ , he thought, but didn't say. He closed his eyes deliberately, couldn't stand ( _wanted, needed, loved_ ) the sight of the smoothly flexing muscles of Billy's back (quite possibly sexier than Billy's mouth, even, Billy's unspeakably talented, sweetly searing mouth). He could hear himself breathing like a bloody steam locomotive, _not even moving_ , not even _properly_ fucking Billy (oh God, but he wanted to be), and already breathing like he was running a bleeding marathon, and he groaned: "How long, Christ, Bill how fucking long has it been?"

"Long time, Dommie," Billy panted, his breathing short and sharp, unsteady, but nothing like the heaving bellows that were operating in Dom's chest. "Years. Seven or eight."

"Shite," Dom whispered, and his eyes opened in surprise, opened without his permission, and he was staring at Billy again, fucking gorgeous in the meager light from the living room, which refracted and sparkled off the sweat on Billy's body, painting him silver-gold with light and charcoal with shadow.

"Move your arse, Dominic," Billy hissed, and shifted his weight backward deliberately, pushing back onto Dom's cock, forcing a groan from Dom's throat, helpless, at the molten, constricting slide _. Don't, no don't come, no no no_ , his brain rambled, his whole body trembling as he fought it back, but God, God, he wanted it, craved the relief, the heated spill into Billy's body, yes, to bend over Billy's back and whimper and come, release from the twisting fire in his balls, yes.

"Be still, for God's sake, Billy," he begged, not surprised to hear himself pleading with his cock jammed balls-deep in Billy's arse, nope, not a bit surprised. "I can't move, not yet, I can't..."

"You'd better," Billy barked, and Dom could hear the sneer in his voice, could see it in his mind, along with the narrow, demanding gleam that he was certain would be in Billy's eyes. "You'd better, and you'd better do it right, you'd better fucking do it _well_ , Dominic. Now."

And it wasn't bloody _fair_ , Billy using that voice on him -- knowing _exactly_ how Dom reacted to it -- when Dom was already clutching for control. "Bastard," he hissed back, and gave an experimental shove, and Billy's body rocked forward (only slightly, because Billy's hands were firmly gripped around the edges of the table, his feet planted solidly on the floor). Billy's back arched slightly and Dom heard himself muttering something incoherent and reverent. He bent to lap sweat from the angles of Billy's shoulder blades, greedy for the taste of him, the feel of his skin, smooth and hot under Dom's lips and tongue, and Billy arched further ( _godyesgod_ ), wordless approval, perfectly understandable.

Dom's hips found a rhythm, and he didn't dare look down at his own cock pushing into Billy's arse -- the thought alone sent heady, vertigo-inducing hungerneed spiraling through his brain and lower belly so fiercely it was nearly painful -- for fear that, if he looked, God, if he saw it, he would die, he would incinerate, he would burn like tinder in Billy's fire. Billy seemed to approve, judging by the graceful arc of his back and the rolling growl of unintelligible, highly ethnic obscenities he could hear spilling from Billy's lips. He wasn't rocking back, was letting Dom move them both ( _jesusgodyes_ ), and Dom thought he had himself as in control as he could be, considering the mind-shattering fucking enormity of the situation, but then Billy stopped muttering curses Dom couldn't quite comprehend, and started talking again instead.

"Good, yes," Billy moaned (and Dom had heard him moan before, yes, of course he had, but nothing that sounded anything like _this_ ), and just like that, Dom was shuddering on the brink again, on the fucking verge of an orgasm both helpless and brutal, and he could hear himself whining softly as he struggled against his need. "Good, Dominic, _fuck_! You've got a bloody brilliant cock."

"Ohbloodyjesushelpme," Dom groaned, eyes closed again to shut out Billy (the curve of his back, godyes, white knuckled hands gripping the table, please, the curve of his arse, perfecttightyes, the sharp-edged, shifting angles of his shoulder blades gliding under his skin), but he could still smell the salt of Billy's sweat, the musk of their sex, the traces of leather and beer that lingered on Billy's skin, and he wasn't going to be able to stop himself, he had used up every iota of control he was capable of, and Billy feltsmelledsounded so fucking perfect. He reached desperately for Billy's cock, caught it in his fist ( _don't talk, just shut up, don't talk, please_ ), and Billy's body went screamingly taut, tension crackling off his skin like static electricity, and Dom let out a brief, discordant cry of pleasure laced with dismay, still feverishly trying to resist the throbbing insistence in his balls, knowing that such strength of will was beyond his reach.

"Make me come, Dominic," Billy demanded, voice fierce and resonant and furious. "Make me come, and I'd better come before you do." Undeniably a threat, and Dom was fucking doomed to fail, damn Billy, damn him for fucking _talking_. "You do not want to see how bloody quickly I can turn this around," Billy breathed heavily. "I will rip you apart, you cunt." Sharp, sharp and cutting, vicious words, Billy's familiar weapons, so cleverly wielded, so lethally utilized. And Billy knew, knew how close he was, how hard he was fighting, and if he would only shut up, Jesus, if he would just shut up Dom might be able to comply, but Billy didn't, wouldn't, Billy never fucking shut up, and the last whisper was too much, the last, softly uttered (through harsh and jagged breaths): "I'm warning you, Dominic."

And that was it, that was all he could take, he was shuddering and whimpering (release, God, yes so good, so fuckinggoodsogood), spilling into Billy's heat, mindless and breathless, hips jerkingstrainingpushing, god, insideinsideinsideBilly, yes, nothing but white-hot, molten need driving him, relief, yes, bliss, yes, fuck yesyesyes.

One moment he was bent bonelessly over Billy's back and the next he was falling, his bare arse hitting cold kitchen tile, and looking up at Billy. "I..." he said, and his tongue felt uncooperative and disconnected. "Billy, I..." But he wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure if the apology trembling on his lips was warranted or necessary, because Billy was fully fucking capable of designing the events of the past two minutes purposefully, and Dom would bite off his own tongue before he'd apologize for something Billy had orchestrated.

Billy stepped toward him, red, erect cock preceding him like a battering ram, face partially in shadow, utterly unreadable, and Dom found himself scooting backward on hands and heels, not on purpose (running from Bill was _never_ a good idea), but merely an automatic response to Billy bearing down on him with his face a neutral mask, to not being completely sure if Billy was really pissed off or merely using recent events against Dom, as he did so bloody well.

Billy stopped, and Dom froze, body tight and tense with expectation.

Billy, he reflected in the three seconds of motionless silence that followed, was possibly the scariest fucker he had ever known.

It was that ability to guard everything -- to _conceal --_ that made him so very unsettling at times. There just weren't very many people out there who could shut down like that, shield themselves so completely that Dom genuinely had no idea of their thoughts or intentions.

It was part of Billy's allure -- the uncertainty of his responses, the potential danger.

"Next time..." he said softly. His eyes caught the light just right, giving them an eerie shine, like a cat's eyes. A big, deadly cat. "Next time, we'll see how you fare with a cock ring, griobon."

A hint of a smile flickered across Billy's lips, there and gone, and his right hand rose slightly, fingers curling into a 'come here' gesture. Dom's body obeyed without consulting Dom's brain (and God, how he loved that, how he fucking loved it that Billy could rule his body while his brain was still reeling and helpless), up on his knees and shuffling forward.

His cock was already rising again -- Dom doubted he'd ever get used to the way the slightest gesture or shift in tone from Billy could elicit responses from Dom's body -- and when Billy sank to his knees in front of Dom, it was unexpected. Billy backhanded Dom's half-hard cock ( _Ow, oh fuck, Jesus!_ ) -- _shockingly_ unexpected -- and Dom drew back, strangled objection falling unheeded from his lips. Dom's cock didn't object at all, however; it had gone from half-hard to completely erect and throbbing with painful rapidity. Billy's hands were on his shoulders, forcing him backward, completing Dom's momentary urge to retreat, and Dom was off-balance in more than one sense. He fell back, legs still folded up under him. He shifted, tried to find something a little kinder to his back and thighs, but Billy was pressing Dom's shoulders firmly down, pinning him (God, Billy's face, oh God, that look) and moving up to straddle Dom's body. For one dizzying moment, Dom thought Billy was going to sink down onto his cock, thought Billy was going to fucking _ride_ him, and the world wobbled and tilted precariously around him.

"Please," he whispered, and Billy let out a short, snarling bark of laughter.

"Not even in your best fucking dreams, Dommie," he growled, and Dom was rocked by an impossible combination of disappointment (oh fuck, that would be good, so good, so beautiful, Billy riding him with his head thrown back and his chest sheened with sweat, and his hand working his own fucking cock, oh God, yes please), and sharpbright satisfaction (because no, Billy would never, and Dom didn't deserve it anyhow, not after his recent performance).

Billy slid up to straddle Dom's chest, hands braced on either side of Dom's head, and Billy's cock was close enough to _almost_ taste, close enough to see the slick gleam of precome smeared across the head, and Dom was licking his lips and tilting his head up, completely willing. He didn't need to think, Billy was guiding him, hand cradling the back of Dom's head, hips arching forward, and Dom's tongue was lapping at the head of Billy's cock as soon as he could reach, lips open and wanting.

"The only time you _never_ fight me is when you're sucking my cock, Dominic," Billy murmured. He wasn't moving forward, wasn't giving, had pulled back just enough to make it impossible, and Dom couldn't _reach_ , couldn't fucking reach, couldn't even lever himself further up with Billy's weight on his chest.

"Let me," Dom whispered. "Let me."

"Why the fuck should I?" Billy's voice was sharp, tight, and Dom knew that tone. Billy was going to deny them both just to watch Dom suffer. Dom writhed a little, squirmed, pushed up, but Billy wasn't moving. "I only asked for one thing, Dominic, one little thing, and you didn't have the fucking discipline to give it to me."

Guiltfearneed spasmed in Dom's belly. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, but Billy's expression was unyielding.

"Why should I give you anything? Why shouldn't I just--" Billy slid his hand out from around Dom's head and wrapped it around his own cock instead, two fucking inches from Dom's face, and Billy would do it, Billy would fucking do it, because Billy wasn't ashamed, Billy would fucking enjoy rubbing himself off so close that Dom could nearly taste him, would enjoy listening to Dom beg and watching Dom need. Billy would do it, and never feel and instant of shame or regret or pity.

"No," Dom pleaded, flexing arms trapped at his sides by the pressure of Billy's thighs, straining up as far as he could with Billy's weight pressing down on him. "No, Billy, don't do that," and he wasn't even ashamed to be begging, not if it fucking worked, not if Billy stopped the quick stroke of his hand on his cock. "Don't, please, Billy, let me." Dom could feel Billy watching him, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Billy's cock, couldn't look away from Billy's twisting wrist, the muscles in his forearm working, flexing. "I can do better, Billy, please."

He could, he knew he could, Dom's tongue around Billy's cock would be better than Billy's hand, and Dom was trying to tell Billy ( _"please, I can make you come, let me suck you off, Billy, better than your hand, please, I'll be better, I can do better, Billy, please, don't do this, don't tease, please, sorry, please, let me taste you, please"_ ) but it was strangled and gasping, his throat tight and desperate with denial and disappointment. He didn't know what to say to make Billy relent (Billy's eyes glittered, Billy's hand moved, the head of Billy's cock was slick and wet, and Dom's mouth was fucking watering), and he was going to go mad, he couldn't stand it, so close, and he could smell Billy, he could see the thick vein along the bottom of Billy's cock (" _please, I need, please, Billy please please please_ "), and Billy arched just close enough to graze Dom's mouth with the head of his cock, teasing, leaving salt-musky fluid on Dom's lips, not enough, but his hips retreated when Dom tried to take more, taste more, have more.

"Give me what _I_ need," Billy hissed, silver-sharp, bright-hard, voice shaking with restraint.

"Take it, take me, please, yes," Dom gasped, and meant it completely, anything, yes, and Billy pushed in fast, Dom's head rocked back, uncomfortable angle (but he never considered objecting) and it was abrupt, no time to adjust as Billy thrust deep, forcing his way past Dom's gag reflex, blocking the light with his body, blocking oxygen with his cock. Dom's fingers clutched at the carpet, arms no less pinned with Billy's shift in weight, and he was aware of Billy's hand at the back of his neck, angling him how Billy wanted him (spiky lust-shock to his balls, the feeling of being handled, directed), and Dom couldn't move, but he didn't need to; Billy was taking care of that, was fucking Dom's mouth with carefully controlled force, and rumbling low in his chest (not much sound, but more than Billy usually made).

Dom's cock was awake and aware of that sound, Billy-sounds, and was drooling precome onto Dom's belly in approval, but his cock was the least of Dom's worries. The only thing that was important, the only thing that was really real, was Billy's cock in Dom's mouth, short, sharp thrusts that kept Billy inside while Dom struggled to shield his teeth and keep his throat open. It was good, it must be good because Billy was rumbling and Billy didn't usually, and Billy smelled so fucking good, and Dom could taste the smell, bitter leather on his tongue from Billy's trousers, sweat and musk, fuck yes, and the feel of it, hotsmoothslick, moving with Billy's controlled thrusts, but alive with its own movement as well, jerking, the vein along the bottom of the shaft pulsing against Dom's tongue when he curled it around and under, and Billy (" _oh, Dommie, you are better at this than anyone has a bloody right to be"_ ), Billy's fingers in the hair at the nape of Dom's neck, twistingpullingguiding.

Overwhelmed, he was dying, his cock ached and his knees had gone up and open under their own power, and Billy's breathing was short and shallow and gasping, yes, and Dom was surrounded, the feelsmelltastesound of Billy was everywhere, no Dom left, just make Billy feel good, yes, make him come, yes, moaning because he fucking loved it, moaning around Billy's cock (" _yessss, Dommie, use that smart mouth for what it was meant for"_ ), and he couldn't breathe, his mind was fracturing, and Dom was fighting it, fighting to feel every instant of it, but not fighting Billy, open for Billy, and he felt the pulse-jerk of Billy's cock just before Billy came, felt it and swallowed hard (not moaning now, whimpering, needing it, needing to tastefeelhear) and Billy's voice was guttural and unintelligible in Dom's ears, cock deephardperfect in Dom's throat as Dom swallowed and whimpered, and when Billy pulled back, away, Dom tried to follow, tried not to let him go, but he was still pinned, still helpless, and he fell back to the carpet feeling dazed and bemused and dreamy.

Billy didn't move far, the head of his cock still resting against Dom's lower lip, and Dom's tongue snaked out, tasting the bitterness and sending shudders through Billy's legs, Billy's calves tensing and translating the shudders through Dom's arms and chest. Billy's eyes were closed, his face still flushed with exertion. He was beautiful and Dom's chest and throat felt tight while the rest of his body (except his cock) felt loose and relaxed and warm, muscles like cotton, cock like steel.

When Billy opened his eyes they were green-grey and cloudy. He smiled down at Dom, satisfaction in every line of his body, and Dom could feel himself smiling back, and he was satisfied too, satisfied and pleased at the languor of Billy's movements, the crooked smile on Billy's face, pleased that Billy was pleased, pleased to have pleased Billy. It was the best, the most perfect feeling, everything distant except the warmth of Billy's body and the understanding that he'd been good for Billy. It was hard for him to get here, sometimes, but Billy knew how, Billy always knew how.

"All right, Dom?" Billy murmured, sliding down Dom's body slowly, skin slick and hot with sweat. Dom's skin shivered and tingled, and he arched up, licking salty sweat from Billy's chest and neck when they came within range of his tongue.

"Yes. Good. Yes."

Billy stopped, stretched full length above Dom, their faces level. His face was soft, and Dom knew he was Billy's reflection in moments like these, he soaked up whatever Billy felt and made it his own, and he would stay this way for a few hours, he would let Billy guide him stumbling into the bedroom later, let Billy touch and stroke and tease if he wanted, would writhe for Billy's hands and his mouth, would give whatever Billy asked of him, and he was happy, it was good, it was everything.

Billy slid his thumb along Dom's lower lip softly and pulled it back to show Dom a smear of bright blood. Billy's brows were raised, unspoken question. He wasn't surprised that Billy had managed to bloody his lip. It had already been bleeding a bit to begin with. But he hadn't felt it, or at least hadn't felt it in any way he hadn't loved, and blood had long since been accepted as an occasional hazard. "Love you," Dom said. It was the only thing to say, because nothing else was enough, and even that sometimes seemed inadequate. Billy's eyes gleamed, a slow, wide smile settling onto his lips, and Dom reflected him willingly.

Billy slid his fingers down Dom's face, resting them at the back of Dom's neck, thumb grazing just under Dom's jaw to tilt his face up. He lapped softly at Dom's wounded lip, licking away Dom's blood, sending tingling, stinging jolts to Dom's cock. Dom wasn't surprised when Billy's weight shifted and his thigh pressed down against Dom's cock, hard muscle and slick, sweaty skin, hot, and Dom's hips thrust up against Billy's thigh reflexively.

"Go on, Dommie," Billy whispered against his lips, thigh flexing, pressing harder, teeth sharp on Dom's lower lip.

Dom's face burned, but his hips were twisting up in response to the pressure, to the sound of Billy's voice. He wasn't going to fight, he didn't have to fight now, and he was lucky Billy was letting him come again at all. "Please," he whimpered, and Billy's thumbs settled against the sides of his neck, pressing a little at pulsepoints, making Dom hyper-aware of the vulnerability of his throat under Billy's hands.

"Go on," Billy whispered again. "Let me see your face."

But Billy didn't need to urge, really, Dom was lost in the feel of Billy's body, Billy's hands loosely circling his neck, Billy's thigh, smoothhard, just the right amount of pressure, just the right blend of pain and pleasure and shame, and thinking was out of Dom's grasp as he arched and pushed and strove for friction. He could feel Billy watching him, knew his face was flushed and twisted into a grimace of effort, knew that later, sometime during the night when Dom was deeply asleep, Billy would wake him with his cock sliding into Dom's body and his voice warm and thick in Dom's ear, telling Dom what he had looked like. When that happened, Dom would burn with shame, would quiver and cringe with it, but for now it was just something else to feel, something else to drive him toward the orgasm that was building in his belly, and he was grateful for it.

"Did you see his face," Billy whispered, and Dom moaned, yes, because he'd seen it, seen Elijah's face darken when he had looked at them. "I want to see you fuck him, Dommie, want to see you top him. I want to see you fucking rip him apart, Dommie, want to hear him come with you fucking giving it to him, want to hear him beg, want to see you make him beg"

There was more, Dom could still hear Billy talking, but the rushing in his ears overpowered the words, and he was bowed up and trembling, coming against Billy's thigh with Elijah's face in his mind, Elijah's face how he imagined it would look, and Billy's voice, God yes, both, he couldn't take the combination. And if he ever got it, ever got both, he would probably die and it would feel like this, it would be pleasure that was nearly indistinguishable from pain, Billy's teeth on his throat and the pressure of Billy's hands and the soft, yielding feel of Elijah's willing body, and Dom was spitting out some sort of gratitude and Billy was kissing him again, smothering words and swallowing whimpers, until Dom was limp and satiated and completely relaxed beneath Billy.

: : :

The second time Elijah caught him with his cock in his hand gave Dom wank material for several weeks following.

You'd think he'd have learned his lesson about not doing it in the living room without an armed guard or something. But Elijah was meant to have been out until quite late, and Dom had spoken to Billy on the phone, and, really, it was happening before he really thought about it.

So, of course, Elijah opened the front door and walked in.

"Bugger!" Dom growled, and arched up enough to wriggle his jeans up over his arse.

Elijah arched a brow at him from just inside the door. From the looks of things, he wasn't going to flee this time. He didn't have a sack of Cheetos, though, so that was a good sign.

"Don't you ever do anything else?" Elijah asked, closing the door behind him. He looked sharp, having met with a director for lunch; pressed charcoal grey slacks and a butter-soft button up (Dom's, Elijah had bugger-all taste in clothing) in dove grey.

"Sometimes I piss in your sock drawer," Dom bit out grumpily, struggling with his button fly. Elijah wasn't even looking away. "Keep your eyes to yourself, then!"

Elijah shrugged, smirking. "You're the one stroking off in the living room, Dommie." And really, how fair was _that_. How fair was it that Elijah should just saunter in, beautiful and smirking and effortlessly flinging about dominant vibes with absolutely no notion that he was doing it, no notion of what it did to Dom, hearing Elijah drawling out _'Dommie'_ with his pretty pink fucking mouth. "You could have at least locked the door."

"Blow me, Elijah," Dom grunted, sucking in and arching his back to try to get his already tight jeans fastened over his cock, which was showing no signs of deflating this time, thanks to Elijah and his unintentional sex-slinging. He was concentrating so intently on getting his jeans fastened that he didn't notice the prolonged silence. Not at first.

When he did, and glanced up to see what the hell Elijah was up to (the notion that Elijah was arming himself with a pile of Cheetos or another convenient snack food flashing through his mind), he found Elijah looking rather fixedly at Dom. At Dom's crotch. At Dom's _cock_ , which was mostly but not entirely concealed by Dom's button fly, which slid out of nerveless fingers as soon as Dom caught the look on Elijah's face.

"Is that an insult?" Elijah asked, his eyes fixed on Dom (his cock, fucking staring at Dom's cock with his pink mouth open just a little, cheeks only slightly flushed, oh fucking God help him), voice slightly husky. "Or a request?"

JesusChristonafuckingcrutch! "Um," Dom said, desperately trying to think past the roaring surge of pure lust currently occupying his brain (among other parts of his body). _God, he's a fucking natural, Bill, I wish you could fucking see this._ Then: _This would be a good bloody time to make a joke, Monaghan_. But when he opened his mouth, what came out was not a joke. What came out was: "Is that an offer, then?"

Shite. Shite shite fuck fucking shite shite _shite_!

"It's not polite to answer a question with a question," Elijah pointed out, and his eyes finally rose up to meet Dom's gaze, New Zealand sky blue, smoldering, yes, but also sparkling with humor. "Your lack of courtesy has totally put me off. No blow job for you."

"Damn me and my crappy manners," Dom managed, and the grin he could feel wreathing his face was completely genuine, because he fucking _admired_ the man, fucking admired and adored him, and he was so fucking _good_. Not nice, not sweet, not gentle, not kind, although he was all of those things, too, but just _good_ , just a good man, a good friend, a fucking _fantastic_ mate. "I lose out on more blow jobs that way."

"It's for the best," Elijah said, mock-comforting. "I don't want Billy to hunt me down and kill me, anyhow."

"Ha. Billy would laugh his arse off." Which was true. "Hey, Bills, it's Dom. Guess what happened. Elijah walked in on me wanking, humiliated me completely, and sucked my dick!"

Elijah snorted, and shrugged off his jacket. "Don' worreh, Dommeh. Ah'll be righ' there ta twist 'is skinny arse inta a pretzel in defense o' yer honor."

"Ah, you underestimate Herr Boyd," Dom said, and struggled again with his button fly before finally getting it. "More like: Was 'e any good at it, then?" They exchanged grins. "And then he'd give me the 'Don't mess with Elijah's head' speech."

Elijah threw his head back and laughed delightedly, and Dom laughed too, helpless not to. "You get that speech a lot?"

"On occasion." Although, apparently, not often enough. He'd have to ring Billy and get him to deliver it again.

"You want a beer?" Elijah asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I only ask because it looks like you might have trouble getting up, considering how tight those jeans are. Which, I might add, is because they are actually _my_ jeans, and thus at least an inch smaller in the waist than yours."

Dom looked down at the jeans in confusion for a moment, frowning. When he looked back, Elijah was smirking at him again. Elijah was, of course, completely right. Which meant there was really only one thing to do. "I can take them off, if you like. But you should know, if I take them off, you're bloody wearing the bastards, and I've been in them all day with no pants on."

"For the love of God, no," Elijah shuddered, making warding-off gestures with both hands and backing toward the kitchen. "They're all yours."

He waited until he was safely through the kitchen doorway and thus safe from anything Dom might find to throw, to add: "Fat ass."

##  _VANCOUVER_

It was Friday night, and Elijah and Franka were dancing.

Dom wanted them to look ridiculous together. She was, after all, quite a bit taller than he.

They didn't.

"You're staring," Billy said.

"Fuck you, Bill," Dom said, but he made himself look away. He half wanted to scream at Billy. Or Elijah. Or Franka. Or maybe he just fucking wanted to scream.

"We can get out of here, if you want," Billy said, and Billy's calm, patient tone just made him want to scream more.

"We can't leave," he said, and threw back the shot of whiskey he'd been rolling between his hands for the past five minutes or so. It burned his throat satisfyingly, and gave his eyes a reason to sting. He had to catch his breath before he could continue. "We came here to see _him_. We can't just bugger off."

"I know, Dom, but right now he's seeing _her_ , and that's all he's really seeing. It won't matter if we leave." Dom looked at him, and Billy looked back, face a study in complete neutrality. Dom hated it when Billy did that, fucking _hated_ it, and his mouth was open to say so, but he couldn't quite draw in enough breath to do it. Because Billy was right, it wouldn't matter if they left, Elijah would barely fucking notice, and that hit him like a kick to the fucking groin. For a moment, he was well aware that everything he was thinking was showing on his face, and the actor's mask that usually resided at his fingertips was unavailable to him. _Fucking whiskey_ , he thought, on the verge of looking down, away, _something_ , and then Billy's neutrality cracked apart like eggshells.

He didn't try to look away or hide it, though Dom was fairly certain that Billy knew damned well what he was showing. Some kind of vicious, seething hostility twisted up with wounded sorrow -- like a reflection of the weight in Dom's chest -- and Dom came to the abrupt realization that he hated _that_ look on Billy's face far and away more passionately than he hated the calm, that careful nothing, that Billy had been presenting to the world all night. "Ah cannae si' here an' watch ye watch them," he whisper-snarled, his accent thick enough to twist his words into something that was almost unintelligible.

Billy was up and walking away before Dom had quite registered it, and he was rising to his feet to follow when Elijah and Franka appeared beside him. Elijah was frowning, watching Billy's back retreating through the crowd.

"What's going on?" Elijah asked, fixing Dom with a shrewd look that Dom could have lived without. "Are you fighting?"

And Dom wasn't sure what the answer to that was. He pushed a hand through his hair, feeling the gelled up spikes give grudgingly under the pressure of his hand. "I don't know," he said honestly, and then looked up to find Franka's eyes on him, blatantly appraising. He pushed away the resentment he could feel bubbling at the edges of his mind, and shook his head, feeling tired and beaten. He turned away, intent on following Billy, and Elijah caught his wrist. Dom looked down at Elijah's hand, and then up at his face.

"I'll go," Elijah said simply. "I'll talk to him."

Dom hesitated, but Elijah showed no signs of releasing his wrist, and if Billy _was_ pissed off at him (he wasn't crazy about not knowing one way or the other, he was usually a little more observant than that), he just didn't think he had the energy to deal with it right now. Finally, he nodded. Elijah squeezed his wrist gently, and Dom watched him vanish into the crowd in the general direction Billy had gone.

It took Dom several seconds to realize that he was now alone with Franka.

Fuck.

"Sit down, Dominic," Franka invited, and because he couldn't really think of anything else to do, he did.

She scanned the crowd for a few minutes, and Dom watched her, looked at her, trying to be objective. Trying not to hate her for the wrong reasons. She finally caught the attention of a waitress, and half rose to her feet to shout her order. "Rauchbock," she said, and held up two fingers.

Dom forced himself not to show surprise. German, she was German. Of course. He had known that (her name was Franka Potente for God's sake), but it hadn't really been something he had considered. Stupid, he was stupid. He had seen _Run Lola Run._ He'd liked it, in fact. It was even possible he'd admired her. He refused to remember.

He was fairly sure he was looking mostly impassive when she turned back to look at him. "Elijah says that you were young when you left Germany," she said, arching an inquiring brow at him. "He says he has not heard you speak much German, and is not certain that you are still fluent."

It was both a question and an invitation, he was pretty sure, and he pondered it for a moment. _Be happy for him_ , he thought fiercely. _Can't you just be happy for him? Can't you just try?_ "I am," he said, in German, and oddly enough, just the act of speaking to her, forcing himself (however temporarily) to get past the animosity still lurking in his chest, helped to relax him a little. "I think I've lost some of it, now that I think entirely in English, though."

"And you speak with an English accent," she laughed, eyes sparkling prettily. Her accent, of course, was flawless north German. "But very clearly, so perhaps you have not lost as much as you fear."

The waitress returned with her order, and Franka pushed one of the glasses toward him. "It will be cold," she said, still speaking in German and rolling her eyes in exasperation that required no translation.

Dom snorted a little, amused in spite of himself. She was right; it was cold, but still good, for all of that. He hadn't had good German beer, real German beer, in far too long. This was rich and malty with a smoky flavor that he thoroughly approved of.

"Ja?" she asked, grinning, looking disturbingly pixie-like in her amusement, and downed about half of her glass at a gulp.

 _Drinks like a man_ , he thought, and then blinked, surprised at himself. She clutched at her forehead and groaned, muttering something that sounded like "Stupid beer, too cold" under her breath, and Dom laughed. It was just too perfect. Elijah _would_ pick the kind of girl who would give herself brain-freeze drinking beer. She threw him a reproachful look, but then grinned, and she really was a very pretty girl. A pretty girl who could laugh at herself.

They drank in silence for a minute or so (during which she drained the rest of her beer and set the glass down with the kind of deliberate finality that reminded him of drinking contests in movies), and Dom watched her scan the crowd repeatedly. Watching for Elijah. Waiting for Elijah.

He sighed quietly, and looked away. He didn't want to like her; that was the crux of the matter. He didn't want to, but he was pretty sure that he _could_ , if he just let himself. And it was only too clear that _Elijah_ liked her. And Billy was pretty much spot on in his analysis of the situation, like it or not.

There was nothing they could do. They had to wait it out.

He wasn't sure that Elijah was in love with her (or she with him), but that didn't really factor in. Unless he was willing to interfere -- unless _they_ were willing to interfere -- there was nothing they could do.

Left to his own devices, Dom might have chosen to do so. Fuck Franka, they were here first.

But whether Billy believed it or not, Dom really was aware of how impulsive he was. He was aware of all the ways in which this situation could spiral out of control. And Elijah well, Elijah still liked girls. Whether or not Dom thought he was being an arse by ruling out half the world's population (including himself and Billy) was irrelevant. Of course, that wasn't really fair, but that was beside the point.

He wasn't any more willing than Billy to risk everything until Elijah could actually really believe that _they_ were possible. It didn't matter that Elijah would almost certainly respond, if Dom chose to try. It didn't matter that Dom was as sure as knew how to be that Elijah would get off on a bit of kink.

Oh, all right, rather a lot of kink.

But Elijah wasn't sure. Elijah wasn't, and that mattered.

At any rate, he wasn't willing to interfere. Not when Dom couldn't be positive of what Elijah wanted without pulling him into a situation that might still be more than just a little too intense for him.

Fuck.

"You don't have to like me, if you don't want to, Dominic," Franka said gently, and Dom jerked guiltily. He hadn't actually been thinking that -- he had almost forgotten she was even present -- but it wasn't like he hadn't _ever_ thought it. "I won't be offended."

For a moment, he had no idea what to say. He eventually settled for the truth. "I like you as well as I can, for not knowing you very well, Franka." It sounded grudging, even to his ears, but she smiled, which only made him feel like a wanker.

"Your boyfriend is very reserved," she said, and Dom looked at her, uncertain where such a statement was supposed to lead. "Elijah says he is a very good actor." She cocked her head to one side, regarding him with dark, solemn eyes. "You are less guarded than he is. You and Elijah, both."

"He's Scottish," Dom said shortly, and took a drink of his beer. It had warmed up somewhat, and the flavor of it was even stronger when it wasn't strangled with cold. "And Elijah is American. All Americans are open. They seem to think it's a good thing."

"Elijah is a very fine actor," she said simply.

"I agree," Dom said, and drank more beer to avoid looking at her. He was getting an itchy feeling behind his eyes, a feeling that usually meant the situation was about to get totally out of hand. He wasn't sure what, exactly, would constitute 'totally out of hand' in this instance, but he suspected he wouldn't like it. He considered escaping to the toilet.

"He is more guarded around you," she said, and Dom could feel her eyes on him, like she was waiting to see his reaction.

He refused to give her one. "Who is?" But he didn't think his half-hearted attempt at evading the conversation would work. She looked thoughtful and determined, and Dom was feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

The look she gave him (knowing, exasperated) pretty much confirmed his worst fears. She was not going to be put off. "Elijah," she said (speaking slowly, as though he were a not-particularly-bright child). "He is nearly as guarded as your boyfriend when he is around the two of you."

And Dom had no idea what to say. For several long and uncomfortable seconds, they just looked at one another (Dom was not going to look away, he hadn't done anything wrong), and Dom wondered if it would be selfish of him to dislike her on the grounds that she said things that made him uncomfortable, things that implied she thought she knew things about how Dom felt or about how Elijah felt, or something.

He picked his glass up so he'd have something in his hands, but he didn't look away from her. Her eyes were dark and curious, brows drawn together in an almost-frown. "Dunno what you mean, love," he said flatly, using the actor's mask he hadn't been able to find earlier, hadn't been able to use to keep his hurt hidden from Billy.

"Dominic," she said, slightly impatient, and her eyes narrowed a bit. "You're doing it now."

 _You don't know me well enough to say what I do or do not do_ , he thought bitingly, but he didn't say it. He didn't want to upset Elijah, and pissing off his girlfriend would certainly be enough to do it. He scanned the crowd, looking for Billy or Elijah, or even better, for both of them, but he didn't see them. He wished she would stop saying his name. It bothered him, how much it reminded him of Billy. It bothered him, because

His head snapped back around, the thought searing his mind, making panic flutter in his stomach, and he leaned forward to study her. She drew back slightly, eyes going a little wide with surprise; Dom was performing some sort of mental review, assessing her expression, her bearing, just the way she _felt_ to him, because she reminded him of Billy, she was forceful and strong, and she reminded him of _Billy_ , and maybe it would be good if she were a top ( _no, not a top, a domme, a fucking domme_ ), but he hated the idea anyway, was fiercely afraid that she _was_ , and what that might _mean_.

No. No.

That wasn't it, that didn't feel right, her face didn't look right, and even with her lip curled like that, a tiny challenge that she probably didn't even know she was making, she clearly was not a domme.

In fact...

He slumped back in his chair, unaware that his beer was tipping suicidally in his hand until she reached out and steadied it, the little sneer gone from her lips as her brow creased with concern. "Dominic? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he murmured distractedly, but he was thinking about how he drank beer, how he tended to slam glasses back onto tables, and how many bloody times he'd given _himself_ brain-freeze with ridiculously cold beer he didn't really like but kept drinking anyhow. He was thinking that she was blunt and forthright, and he wondered, if he knew her better, if he'd also think her mad, with too much sodding energy and outrageous tendencies.

"Dominic?" she said again, and Dom found himself standing (the room was a trifle unsteady, probably thanks to innumerable shots of whisky consumed) and looking down at her with his hands curled into fists. The urge to shout at her, nearly overwhelming, churned in his gut.

"Dom," he said, but it sounded more like an order. "Call me Dom."

She just looked at him, and yes, this was going so very bleeding well. Why not just admit everything right now: _Yes, Franka, I want to shag him and I think he wants the same, now if you'd just bugger off, things could get back to the way they ought to be, don't let the door hit you in the arse on the way out, so long and thanks for all the fucking fish_.

He sighed and dropped back into his seat. "Too much to drink," he muttered, and scrubbed both hands through his hair, setting his beer back on the table (softly) in order to do so. He scanned the crowd again (possibly a little desperately this time). Still no sign of them.

"Do you want some water?" she asked quietly.

 _Stop being nice to me_ , he snarled mentally, and said: "No, I'm all right. Just a bit pissed." He needed to get a hold of himself, needed to just calm down. She was a nice girl, Elijah liked her, and why couldn't he just fucking accept that and move the fuck on?

"Are you in love with him?" Franka asked, and Dom stared at her, furious and dismayed.

"With who?" he snapped, and rubbed at his face with one hand, trying to keep his composure -- what was left of it, anyhow -- and contain the snarl that wanted to curl on his lips. What the fuck _was_ this? The fucking Spanish Inquisition?

"Your boyfriend," she snapped back, impatient again, like Dom was somehow supposed to know whom she was bloody referring to when they'd been talking about Elijah two minutes before. "He is very cold; I think he would be hard to love."

"You don't know anything about him," Dom said, low and flat, and _shut the hell up now, you stupid bint, because you are really beginning to fucking aggravate me_.

"Elijah talks about you both all the time," she said, regarding him with her curious eyes and a slight frown. "You are much as he described you, but _he_ is different than I expected."

Which was almost fair, because Billy had been cold and neutral all night, which _wasn't_ like him, wasn't how he usually acted, but Billy was hurt and jealous, and Dom had just made it worse. Because when Billy was all calm and composed, Dom sometimes forgot that he wasn't the only one feeling like this. Like he expected Billy to somehow do something to make it better, when Billy was feeling the same way Dom was. God, he was a fucking wanker.

How did he fix this?

Franka was still looking at him, half-frown making her brow crinkle up, and Dom could imagine Elijah smiling at her, smoothing his fingertips over the ridges to smooth them out, like Dom sometimes did to Billy. He sighed. "Billy isn't always immediately comfortable around people he doesn't know," Dom lied. At this point, damage control was the only option. "And he's not openly gay, so I think he feels a bit odd about you knowing about the two of us."

And she was going to accept that, Dom could see it in the slight brightening of her face, and the way her brow smoothed out, relaxed. "You don't think he is angry with Elijah? For telling me?"

"No," Dom said, and managed to find a reassuring smile somewhere. "I doubt Billy could ever really be mad at Elijah for anything. I just think he's not used to the idea yet. You have to let him warm up to you."

She nodded, apparently convinced -- and why shouldn't she be? He was an actor, he could fucking be convincing, and he could bloody well act like he liked her, act like he was happy for Elijah, no matter how he actually felt. "What about you? Will you warm up to me?" She smiled a little as she said it, almost looked a little hopeful, and Dom had rarely felt like such a horrid person.

"Already have, love. The minute you gave yourself brain-freeze." He smiled when he said it, and he almost meant it.

She grinned at him, bright and honest, and then the grin became a wide, beaming smile, and Dom didn't have to look to know that Elijah was behind him.

He looked anyway, looked and saw Elijah beaming right back at her, with Billy at his elbow.

Dom stood up as they got closer, and Elijah detoured around him (slugging Dom on the arm as he passed) and Dom resisted the urge to watch and see if he kissed her. He looked at Billy instead, smiling far more genuinely now (but probably still not hiding everything he felt, not from Billy).

"All right, Dom?" Billy asked, and dropped a casual hand on Dom's hip for just a moment, giving comfort through touch.

"Yeah, Bills. Sorry."

Billy shook his head, not refusing the apology, but denying the need for it. "I've a bit of a headache," he said, not smiling, but not frowning either. "Told Elijah we might bugger off. If you want to."

Dom did. Dom desperately did. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to be alone with Billy so badly, and since he nearly always wanted to be alone with Billy, that was saying something. He just nodded.

"It's cool," Elijah said, and Dom felt him slide an arm around his waist. Elijah hugged them both, and when Dom hugged back, he could smell Franka on Elijah's skin.

##  _LOS ANGELES_

"You're never going to beat that score," Elijah smirked, eying him over the rim of his coffee cup, one brow arched. The expression reminded him of Billy so strongly that he had to look away for a moment.

"I will," Dom insisted, though Elijah was most likely right. Elijah was better at all things involving hand-eye coordination, and Gran Turismo was no exception. Dom wouldn't give up trying, though, in spite of that.

Elijah snickered. "Wanna go out tonight?"

Dom shrugged with one shoulder. "Why? So I can look on in awe as Elijah Wood fights off one lovesick fangirl after another, until he finally gives in out of utter exhaustion, and lets one take him home?" It came out sounding slightly more caustic than he'd meant it too, and he smiled to take the edge off. Elijah didn't smile back. For a while, Dom continued to play in silence.

"Tomorrow is Friday," Elijah observed eventually, his voice carefully neutral.

Dom wanted to sigh. He paused the game and looked at Elijah. "So?" he said.

"So, Billy will be off filming for the weekend," Elijah said. "Why don't you drive down and visit? You can take my car."

Dom thought about that for several seconds. Elijah's expression was still carefully neutral. Dom had managed to hurt his feelings. Just lovely.

"Come with me," Dom suggested.

A grin flickered across Elijah's lips briefly. "And interfere with all that hot gay love?" Elijah scoffed. "Nah, I'll pass, but thanks for asking."

Dom waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Come with me, Elijah," he wheedled, and crawled over to crouch at Elijah's feet, abandoning his controller. "You can practically fall out Billy's front door and surf. It'll be brilliant. I know Billy wants to see you!"

"Not as much as he wants to see _you_ ," Elijah said, but Dom could see he was weakening.

"Only because you never run round nude," Dom grinned. "If you'd just give up the whole heterosexual thing for Lent, we could just have a big gay orgy. It'd clear things up on all fronts." He made kissy noises in Elijah's direction, cursing whatever filter was supposed to keep him from saying things like that (which clearly wasn't working properly).

Elijah snorted, but his eyes had softened into a fond expression, which was still just a bit too raw around the edges for Dom's liking. He ruffled Dom's hair, fingers lingering just a moment too long, and Dom couldn't help it. He bent his head and rested his forehead on Elijah's knee, basically just inviting Elijah to pet him. Which Elijah did. Dom's throat felt tight and achy with want.

Not desire, not lust ( _fuck lust_ , he thought, briefly furious), but just simple want. Wanting Elijah; wanting Billy. Wanting completion. Wanting that same feeling he'd had in New Zealand, that feeling of finding something amazing, something perfect, something that fit. That feeling of knowing without qualification that it was flawless, wonderful, and _necessary_.

He wished sometimes that Elijah had never entered into their equation. He couldn't help it. He wondered if Billy ever felt like that, if he'd ever wished that the two of them had never looked at one another over Elijah's sleeping body and realized that it was right.

Dom could only vaguely remember how it felt to be happy, unqualified by any other emotion. It had only been a matter of a few months between Billy and Dom (finally), and the understanding that it _should_ be Billy, Dom, _and Elijah_. That it _could_ be.

It seemed as though they'd been waiting forever for that _could be_ to become more than that. Everything was made more complicated by shooting schedules and careers and the unspoken understanding that this could not be forced or manipulated, only allowed to happen as it would. It could only be hoped for, waited for.

"Come with me," Dom said again, and he heard Elijah sigh.

"I don't wanna be the third wheel, Dom. I don't want to get in your way."

Dom raised his head to fix Elijah with a serious look. Elijah returned it somewhat diffidently, and Dom understood that Elijah _wanted_ to come. He wanted to be talked into it. But he felt he ought not to want it. He mentally cursed Elijah's sense of fair play, but he couldn't honestly do that for long. It was one of the things that made him who he was, that oddly selfless sense of propriety. "You won't be," he said, and meant it utterly. "You won't ever be, Elijah. We want you there, in _everything_ we do." And maybe that was skating a bit too close to the truth for comfort, but Dom didn't give a fuck. It was true in more than one sense, and it was important that Elijah understand that.

Elijah rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, and Dom was relieved. "Fine. But if the two of you start fucking on the kitchen table, I'm leaving."

Dom snorted. "You won't. You'll watch, pervy fucking hobbit."

Elijah swung at him, laughing, and Dom ducked away.

##  _MEXICO_

Billy was nothing if not contained.

Dom could feel him radiating sexual tension, and was a bit surprised that it wasn't actually visible, like wavery shimmers of heat haze coming off pavement under the merciless Mexican sun. But he had it in hand.

 _Control freak_ , he thought fondly, and watched Billy tuck Elijah into a friendly hug (and Dom was quite sure he didn't imagine the brief, stealthy brush of Billy's lips across the stubble on Elijah's head), which was neither too short (perfunctory) nor too long (lingering).

He envied Bill's ability to do that. Dom touched Elijah as rarely as possible these days, for fear that simple touches wouldn't be enough (they couldn't be, he knew, even the most complex of touches could never be enough), that his self-control wouldn't be equal to the challenge. He was pretty sure that Elijah had noticed this, and had tempered his own touches because of it. It was something that inspired equal amounts regret and relief.

Whenever Elijah did touch him, there was always the faintest gleam of guilt in his eyes. That look was something Dom couldn't barely stand seeing, couldn't see without being nearly overwhelmed by the need to comfort him, to confess anything and everything just to banish it.

Billy was abruptly hugging Dom fiercely, and Dom felt his brain shut down, surrounded by the comfort of Billy's arms and Billy's scent. "Bills," he heard himself murmur appreciatively, and Billy's arms tightened around him briefly, acknowledgement. Dom could feel Billy's half-hard cock against his hip.

They pulled back at the same time.

Elijah was beaming at them. The sight of it, open and honest, clearly happy for them, made Dom ache a little. There was more in Elijah's eyes. There always was, now, though Elijah was an excellent actor and Dom couldn't always make out what the things in Elijah's eyes _meant_. Right now it was something like puzzlement as his eyes skipped from Billy to Dom, then back again. The smile on his lips never wavered, but his eyes were veiled.

 _Decide_ , Dom thought. _He can't decide, doesn't understand that he doesn't have to_.

And it was possible that he never would. Elijah didn't think he had the right to want _one_ of them, let alone both. Maybe he couldn't want them like that, together. Maybe he couldn't imagine it as a possibility, or maybe for Elijah it _wasn't_ a possibility. Maybe it never fucking would be.

Dom looked away, looked at Billy because it was easier, less painful. Sometimes he wanted to scream at Elijah. Sometimes he wanted to kiss him and scream at him at the same time.

Then Billy was reeling them into a three-way embrace, and Elijah was stiff and awkward for an instant, like this was the first time they'd hugged this way, instead of the fiftieth or the hundredth. He did relax, though, finally, and Dom could hear him inhaling deeply, and was a little amused to find he was doing the same thing. Inhaling deeply, smelling the three of them together, all at once.

"Glad you came," Billy breathed, including them both, eyes meeting Dom's but lips moving against Elijah's temple. Elijah had his eyes closed.

They broke apart, finally, all three of them grinning, and some of the tension had gone out of Elijah's body.

 _See_ , Dom wanted to say. _See, it's only right when it's the three of us, 'Lijah_.

Billy ushered them inside.

"Fuck, Billy," Elijah groaned theatrically. "The studio too cheap to spring for some fucking AC?"

Billy's grin was almost guilty. "Actually, I picked this place," he said, and his gaze was unmistakably fond as he glanced around the room. If they'd been in England, Dom would've called it a cottage. What did one call a Mexican cottage? "I like it," Billy said. "I'm comfortable here."

"I wasn't criticizing the place," Elijah said, and Dom watched him curl his fingers around Billy's wrist in a brief, apologetic squeeze. "Just the heat."

Billy smiled at him, and it struck Dom forcibly how very fucking _careful_ Billy was with Elijah. His mind was suddenly caught up in the thought, cataloguing Billy's range of expression, range of behavior, comparatively.

Billy was careful, Billy was almost fucking tentative, and that was why Elijah was quite aware of Dom's attraction to him, but seemed pretty much oblivious to Billy's. It was the same reason that Dom himself had waited so fucking long before he'd made a move on Billy. Because he hadn't seen it. There had been fleeting, vague indicators, and Dom's cock had almost immediately insisted that Billy was his sort of bloke, but there had been nothing concrete enough to encourage him. There hadn't been enough to make the payoff worth the risk of being wrong.

Not until that day on the beach.

Billy was nothing if not contained. Self-contained, and unnervingly good at showing only what he wanted you to see.

Billy could separate the friendship from the rest. Of course he could. He could be Dom's best mate out to the pub, and then pull on that other thing, that fiercely dominant, teasing, manipulative, filthy fucking _bastard_ , like it was a suit of clothes. It was a matter of separation. Laughing, funny, gentle, sarcastic Billy, or... Or Bill: Flinty, hawk-eyed, with hard hands and deeply compelling appetites.

Dom was abruptly shaken by the entire concept. He wanted to think about it more, but Billy was gesturing them to sit and pressing bottles into their hands. Dom became aware that he'd sat down a bit too close to Elijah, entirely without intent. Their thighs were pressed together warmly in the still, airless room.

Elijah was looking at him, a little puzzled, and there was a guilty gleam in his eyes and a flush on his cheeks.

 _Fuck!_

Billy turned away, remote in hand (deliberately, Dom would bet money on it) and was babbling about what total shite Mexican television was.

Dom was torn between the urge to move away and ease Elijah's discomfort, and the desire to pull Elijah closer, sling his arm around Elijah's shoulders and tell him that it was all right, not to look like that because it was fucking _killing_ Dom, and there was no need because it was all right to want.

Instead, he found the knot of muscle just above Elijah's knee -- the one that Elijah was utterly helpless to resist or ignore -- and dug his fingertips in hard.

Elijah shrieked like a girl -- Dom was already snorting laughter -- and his knee shot upward, catching Dom's elbow and sending a jolting of nervy pain shooting from joint to middle finger.

"Fuck! Funny bone!" Dom yelped at the same time Elijah's free hand shot up and smacked soundly across the side of this head. "Ow!" Dom objected, attempting to rub both elbow and head at the same time, but he was grinning too, because Elijah was grinning with a combination of fond exasperation and satisfaction, and it had erased that painful look entirely from his face.

"Serves you right," Elijah scoffed, but he grabbed Dom's chin and tipped his head to one side to look at the spot where he'd whacked him. "For assaulting me. And it isn't even red, you weenie!" Still Elijah's fingers skimmed lightly over the spot in soft, silent apology.

Dom grinned, unrepentant, and ignored the constriction in his chest.

"Children," Billy snorted, and Dom turned the grin on him, instead.

"So we're here," Dom announced. "Amuse us, Billy."

" _'Here we are now, entertain us,'_ " Elijah sang softly, and Dom could see the impish grin on his face from the corner of his eye. His chest constricted a little again, but the smile on his face widened, in spite of that.

"Demanding cunts," Billy sniffed, but he settled down onto the couch with them, smiling. "We've a variety of options available to us," he began, sounding enough like a tour guide or a travel agent that Dom and Elijah exchanged grins. Dom wanted to lean into Billy and kiss him until they were both breathless, but he was too aware of Elijah's presence, Elijah's potential discomfort. "Surfing is amazing here," Billy was saying. "The water is bloody tepid, brilliant waves, and there aren't too many regulars at the closest place. We could go out, but I warn you: Most places aren't air conditioned like you're used to. First time I went clubbing, I nearly had a bloody heat stroke. There's a reason the siesta is still widely practiced here."

Billy looked good. He was tanned, the result of countless hours in the unrelenting sun. Billy was as fair and pale as his Scottish ancestry would suggest, normally, and it would've taken more that just a few hours exposure to deepen his skin to the even, healthy gold he was currently sporting. The sun had lightened his hair to nearly blond. It was longer, too, down past his collar, and Dom had to admit, the scruffy, surfer-boy look really fucking suited Billy.

Dom wanted to touch him, feel the texture of his hair and taste the sun on his skin. He wondered if Billy's cock had got any sun, and could feel his lips curling up into a smirk at the thought of Billy sunning starkers. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't quite bring himself to stop. It had been too long, and he had really fucking _missed_ Billy.

He was only vaguely aware that Billy had stopped talking, and the three of them were basically just sitting around in silence while Dom consumed Billy with his eyes. He didn't really become aware of the depth of the silence until Elijah broke it with a snort of amusement.

Dom swiveled around to look at him, and Elijah was grinning knowingly.

"What the fuck are you smirking at, Elwood?" Dom demanded, but he could feel his ears heating up at having been caught staring at Billy like he was dessert. He glanced at Billy, and snarled a little at Billy's matching smirk.

"Not subtle, is he?" Billy asked conversationally.

Elijah snickered. "No, he's really not."

"Hey!" Dom objected, but they both ignored him.

"Tell you what," Elijah said, looking past Dom at Billy. "I'm tired from the drive anyhow. I'll just go ahead and grab a 'siesta' now, and we can surf afterward? Give the two of you a chance to get it out of your systems."

"Hey!" Dom objected again, with similar results.

"It'll keep, 'Lijah," Billy said, head cocked to one side. His eyes glittered a little. "A few more hours won't kill him." Dom grumbled quietly, but didn't bother objecting again. He was privately certain that a few more hours _would_ kill him, but he was as unwilling to make Elijah feel unwelcome as Billy was. "Let's surf now, and Dom can perv on my bod in my swim costume."

Elijah laughed (it sounded genuine to Dom) and made warding off gestures with both hands. "No, God, please! The last thing I want to see is Dominic staring at your ass for hours at a time. I'll have nightmares!"

"Oi!" Billy objected, also laughing. "There is nothing nightmarish about my arse, Elwood!"

"It's not your arse I was afraid of seeing, Billy," Elijah smirked, and cut his eyes toward Dom (toward Dom's crotch) along with an expressive eye-roll.

"Bastards," Dom sniffed, but his lips were quirking upward in response to the sound of their mingled laughter, and what Dom wanted, what he really fucking wanted, was to kiss them both. Kiss Elijah, kiss Billy, taste the differences on his tongue and lips, feel Elijah's slick tongue, feel Billy's stubbled cheeks and coaxing lips.

Or see _them_ kiss. Fuck yeah, watch Billy devour Elijah, watch Elijah open and give. Taste them on each other's mouths.

It was dizzying. It was want that felt like need, forceful and overwhelming.

He stood abruptly, and Billy and Elijah both looked at him, mouths open (they had been talking, Dom realized, they'd been having a fucking conversation and Dom had missed it entirely) and eyes questioning.

"Toilet," Dom said, which was all he could think of on short notice.

"Last door on the right," Billy said, frowning a little. "All right, Dom? You look flushed. Is it the heat? I can call the studio, get a window unit or two..."

Dom waved him into silence. "Nah, Bills. I'm fine. I just need a piss." He grinned reassuringly, and Billy frowned for a moment longer before nodding.

The hallway was dark and quite a bit cooler than the main room. Dom was grateful. He was hot as hell, though it had little to do with the temperature.

He barely had the door closed before he was jerking his zip down and taking his cock in hand. It was the only option, because he wasn't like Billy, he couldn't separate like that, he was too wound up to go anywhere but forward.

In Los Angeles, lying on Elijah's couch, he would've taken the time necessary to make this as satisfying as it could be. He would've constructed elaborate fantasies, the sort that usually got him through these moments of strengthless, aching need. There was no time for that, so he contented himself with memories, calling up flashes of heat and urgency, of Billy's body and Billy's sweat, of the way Billy looked when he came, all silent tension, of the taste of Billy's skin and the feel of his demanding hands, and if he could smell Elijah, if he could see flashes of Elijah's skin or his mouth or his fucking eyes, it was just because he had watched him, wanted him, far too long.

His hand was moving on his cock, quick and intent, while images kaleidoscoped through his mind (Billy's mouth) and he could hear his own breathing (Billy's body, tight around Dom's cock, Billy talking, always talking -- more important, Dom sometimes mused, than the actual feel of his cock inside Billy, was the sound of Billy's voice, constant and commanding on those few occasions when Dom fucked Billy, topped him, if it could even be considered topping) and he bent, hunched slightly, one hand braced on the cool porcelain of the basin (Elijah's body, how it would feel under him, soft and yielding, not like Billy or even like Dom himself, because Elijah wasn't like him, Elijah would be sweeter, gentler, would barely feel the need to bite back the way Dom did, Elijah would be the kind of sub who would sink to his knees at your feet with nothing in his head but the need to get _you_ off, make _you_ come, let you _use_ him) and he was barely breathing now, close, it was building quickly in his balls and his belly, and he was aware of the door opening (aware enough to know it was Billy, and that Billy was watching intently, and to feel the heated coil of shame twist deep in his belly, and to know he was flushing even more deeply), but he didn't stop.

Billy closed the door softly, and Dom watched him, eyes slitted, and he could smell Billy, and he was good to look at, so good, dark hunger gleaming in green eyes like agates, and he wanted Billy to touch him, yes, but it hardly mattered, he was close, and the mere fact of Billy's presence in the room was enough to make him tight and trembling, on the very edge. He could smell Billy's soap and sweat, the new smell of Billy's darker skin and lighter hair, and he could feel Billy's eyes on him (and the familiar twist of shame that always started low in his gut -- in the same place that desire always started -- and then rushed heatedly through the rest of him to stain his skin red and force his eyes closed so he couldn't _see_ Billy _seeing_ him), and for once, when Billy pushed his hand away there wasn't even the slightest urge to resist or object.

"I need," he gasped, and Billy closed in on him quickly, maneuvering him back against the wall. "Bill..."

"Shh," Billy said, hands dragging Dom's jeans down further around his thighs. "I know, shh, Dommie," he murmured, and Dom didn't resist when Billy's hands pushed him down onto his knees. Billy went down as well, tugging him out further until only his shoulders were braced against the wall behind him and his lower back was against cold tile, his t-shirt shoved up around the middle of his chest.

"Be quiet," Billy said, eyes sharp on Dom's face, narrowed and almost all pupils, almost black. Dom nodded, too breathless and needful to speak, and Billy nodded, too, once, and bent down, and the fact that Dom was expecting it, was watching it happen, did nothing to alleviate the shock of contact, the absolute mind-blowing jolt of softwet friction as Billy's mouth closed around his cock. He didn't so much gasp as choke, swallowing a shout or a scream and Billy knew him far too well; there was no pause or hesitation in the rhythm of his mouth on Dom's cock as Billy slid a hand upward to seal Dom's mouth with firm and practiced pressure.

Billy's other hand was keeping Dom's hips from coming up off the floor, and that was good, yes, and it left Dom's hands free (a rarity indeed during moments such as this) and he threaded his fingers lightly into Billy's hair, not for control -- he fucking knew better than that, Billy had no compunctions about biting -- but just to feel it, silken and warm between his fingers.

He wasn't trying for any sort of restraint -- Billy's mouth would not have allowed it anyway, all heated, seeking tongue and the carefully controlled glide-scrape of teeth -- and he could hear himself murmuring behind Billy's muffling hand, and had no idea what it was he was saying.

His thighs where already tense and shaking, had been from the instant Billy's mouth touched him, and he could see Billy's lashes fluttering against his cheeks, could see Billy's lips around his cock and Billy's cheeks hollowed as he sucked and he was so fucking gorgeous and so fucking generous (he already knew that Billy would not allow him to return the favor, no matter how desperately Dom wanted to, because Billy didn't need like this, Billy had himself under control) and his mouth was hotwettight around Dom's cock. He hardly needed Billy's hand sliding down the crease of his thigh to press fingertips tauntingly just behind his balls, but Billy was giving it to him anyway, and Dom's mouth was open in a silent scream behind Billy's hand as his hips jerked up, insistent, and his balls pulsed and his cock twitched and he came blindingly, excruciatingly into Billy's mouth.

It had taken mere minutes -- three? Surely no more than five -- and Billy was pulling him to his feet before the strength had even returned to his legs, so that he slumped dazedly against the basin while Billy zipped and buttoned his jeans. His brain wasn't quite working yet, and his fingers wanted to curl around Billy's wrists, but Billy was having none of it, and shook his hands off easily.

"Wash your face," Billy murmured, and kissed him once, too briefly (faintest trace of himself on Billy's lips). He pulled back to give Dom a little shake. "Wash your face, Dom," he repeated, smiling faintly. "Elijah's waiting."

Dom managed to nod (yes, Elijah was in the living room and Billy had just sucked him off in the loo, and if Elijah were to kiss Billy now, he would taste Dom's come on Billy's tongue, and it made him shudder, helpless, still wanting in spite of what had just happened), and turned on the tap while Billy slipped out the door.

His face in the mirror was flushed and his eyes were heavy-lidded. He doubted he'd have much trouble playing it off as heat exhaustion.

Ha. Blowjob exhaustion. He grinned at himself in the mirror.

The water in the tap was as tepid as Billy had claimed the ocean was, but it was cooler than his flushed cheeks, and Dom concentrated on getting his breathing under control as he splashed his face and neck. By the time he felt reasonably human again, his t-shirt and hair were both soaked.

Halfway down the hall, he could hear Billy talking.

"Aye, three units should do it. One for the main room and one for each bedroom." He was on his mobile, and he turned to grin at Dom as he came into the room. "Will they install them?"

On the couch, Elijah gave him a silent look of concern along with a brief, inexplicable pantomime that Dom decided to interpret as: _Are you okay?_

He nodded, and remembered not to practically flop into Elijah's lap when he sat down this time.

"Half three is fine, it doesn't matter. If we're out, they can let themselves in."

Dom cocked his head and looked a question at Elijah.

"Air conditioners," Elijah whispered with a little smirk. "Apparently, your boyfriend thinks you're delicate." He snorted and rolled his eyes.

Dom grinned back. "A delicate flower, I am," he asserted, and Elijah giggled.

A moment later, though, he said: "Why don't you at least change into some shorts, Sblom? You'll be cooler. And I think I packed a tank top, if you didn't." He was frowning thoughtfully, as though trying to recall the exact contents of his suitcase. "Or maybe I didn't," he amended. "But it isn't as if you really need a shirt, anyhow. Aren't half the beaches in Mexico nude beaches?"

"That's Brazil, Elwood," Billy said, flipping his mobile closed and giving Elijah his warmest smile. "And stop trying to get my boyfriend naked."

Elijah flushed, but grinned back. "He likes it," he asserted, and Billy laughed.

"Aye, that he probably does."

"Cunts," Dom snapped, but before he'd thought about it, he'd caught Elijah's hand and was running the pad of his thumb gently across the knuckles. Elijah's flush deepened, and Dom briefly considered kicking himself, and then chose to play it off as nothing. "I'm all right, mate," he said, and released Elijah's hand. "Just a little overheated for a bit. I feel better now."

He pretended not to notice Billy's smirk.

~~

Whatever amenities Billy's Mexican cottage lacked, the surfing more than made up for.

The water really was tepid, almost downright warm, and it was clear that Billy had been taking advantage of his proximity to the sea, as well.

"When did he get so fucking good at that," Elijah asked, slightly breathless. Dom followed Elijah's gaze out to where Billy was balanced on his board, doing his best impression of a surf-god. It was, Dom had to admit, a fairly good fucking impression.

He and Elijah were sprawled out on beach towels, sucking up the strong, white rays of the Mexican sun. Just watching. Both of them perving on Billy. Neither of them could take their eyes off him, and Dom was slightly amused to find himself somewhat relieved. Some small part of his mind had been worried. Distance did not always make the heart grow fonder; sometimes distance merely made the heart grow distant.

The situation was complicated enough as it was. Having Elijah default (for lack of a better word) to Dom would have made things unbearably worse. Possibly irresolvably worse.

He should have known better. He had never met anyone as constant as Elijah.

"He looks really good," Elijah murmured, and Dom glanced over at him curiously. "I think I'm jealous."

For a moment, Dom wasn't sure how to respond to that. Elijah's tone was weirdly casual for such an admission. Surely it called for a slight change in tone, right? "No need to be," he said, his voice sounding odd and gravelly to his own ears. His heart was pounding suddenly.

"Yeah, yeah," Elijah said, grinning (bizarrely, Dom thought, what the hell was going on then?), eyes bright. "I know. My own fault. I'm close enough to the ocean to practice more, and then I'd be just as good." He grimaced. "You should haul my ass out of the house more. You're enabling my laziness, Sblomie."

Oh. Right. Surfing jealousy. Right then. "I thought you were enabling _my_ laziness, Elwood," he managed to drawl languidly.

"Mutual enabling," Elijah allowed, smirking (but still watching Billy, Dom noted). "But it's more your fault than mine. I'm American, and we're culturally lazy. You're British, and thus not so lazy. Also, you're an egotistical ne'er-do-well, and I'm an innocent victim of your enabling charms."

Dom snorted, relaxing somewhat now that his heart rate had returned to something resembling normal. "You _wish_ you were a victim of my enabling charms," he smirked. "Anything for the chance to use your: 'I'm an innocent, virginal anime cartoon' eyes."

"I do not look like an anime cartoon," Elijah sulked, then jabbed Dom painfully in the ribs with his bony elbow when Dom made strangled sounds of disagreement. "I don't!" he insisted.

"Have you ever _seen_ an anime cartoon?" Dom asked, and grinned at the eye-roll he got in response.

"Dom," Elijah said forbiddingly, turning his big anime-eyes onto Dom. They glittered a little, hardbright, and Dom -- God damn it all to fucking hell -- could feel himself responding. "You fucking wallpapered my bedroom in anime tentacle-porn. _Gay_ anime tentacle-porn."

"The term is yaoi," Dom supplied helpfully, and turned his head just in time to avoid a handful of sand that would have got him full in the face. "And it was only one wall."

"Fucker," Elijah grumbled. "Fucking British sense of humor."

Dom laughed silently. "I rather thought that one bloke looked like you," Dom said just to wind Elijah up. "The one with the purple tentacle thing with all the mouths?"

"Does your boyfriend know you're searching for gay tentacle porn on the Internet featuring cartoons that look like me?" Elijah hissed, blushing furiously. "And besides, he was wearing some kind of metallic speedo! I would never wear a speedo!"

"My boyfriend _sent_ me that one," Dom laughed, and watched Elijah's mouth fall open in outraged disbelief. "And you were looking rather closely at it if you noticed the speedo, Elwood."

"You sick fuck!" Elijah accused. "And I don't believe for a second that Billy sent you that!" He rather obviously ignored Dom's observation about the speedo.

"Here he comes now," Dom pointed out, still grinning. "Ask him."

Elijah snapped his mouth shut audibly, his face bright red.

"Ask me what?" Billy asked, and jabbed one end of his board into the sand. Droplets of water glittered beguilingly on his skin, and his hair looked darker wet. It was too easy to become absorbed in the progress of those droplets as they traveled downward across warm, golden skin. "Um hello," Billy said, interrupting Dom's sightseeing. "Am I speaking out loud?"

"Er, yeah," Elijah said, and Dom saw that he'd turned away, studying the waterline and was, if anything, blushing even more furiously.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Dom asked, arranging his face into an innocent expression.

Billy regarded him with a wry smile. "Right. What are you winding Elijah up about now?"

"Why do you always assume I'm the one doing the winding up?" Dom objected mournfully. "How do you know he isn't winding _me_ up?"

"Because he's the one blushing," Billy said matter-of-factly, and folded himself neatly onto the towel beside Elijah. "What's he on about, then, 'Lijah?" They both ignored Dom's exaggerated sobs of anguish.

"Tentacle porn," Elijah supplied sourly, still not looking directly at Billy.

Billy nodded thoughtfully, not looking terribly surprised (though he had not, of course, sent Dom the picture he and Elijah had been discussing). "The watcher in the water scene?"

Dom couldn't help it. He burst into guffaws of laughter. Elijah's wide-eyed shock only made it funnier.

"What about the watcher in the water scene?" he demanded, tone bordering on offended.

Dom was laughing too hard to answer, and Billy looked a lot like he wished he hadn't said anything at all.

"Um," Billy said, and glared threateningly at Dom. Was that a faint blush on Billy's cheeks? "Nothing."

"No," Elijah said steadily, and pinned Billy with a fierce look. "What about the watcher in the water scene, Bill?"

Dom was stuck somewhere between amused as hell and slightly turned on by the flinty insistence in Elijah's tone. That tone had an interesting effect on Billy, as well. He couldn't help but wonder if Elijah was seeing the way Billy's eyes were darker, more intent, the way that Billy was smiling a little, secretive, not quite smirking. Billy was kindling for that tone in Elijah's voice (and Dom, incidentally, was kindling as well, a combination of Elijah's tone and the effect it had on Billy). When Billy spoke, the smoky-thick sound of his accent, which was always just a touch stronger when he was playing, traveled on an erratic course, electric, over Dom's skin.

"Come on, 'Lijah," Billy murmured. "That scene has tentacle porn potential."

Elijah's mouth dropped open, like he wanted to object, but then he didn't seem to be able to think of anything to say, so he closed it again. He did this several times.

"Poor Frodo," Billy added, and he was smirking now, fully, but he was too smart to direct it at Elijah. He was smirking at the sea. "Big, frightened eyes. Scary monster. Saved by two big, strong Men." He looked at Elijah (whose mouth was open again, bright color staining his cheeks, but his eyes were darker now, almost sultry) for a long moment, and then winked deliberately. Dom could almost feel the tension snap and break apart. "Porn potential."

"I hate you both," Elijah eventually said.

"That's very sad," Billy said, grinning.

"Tragic," Dom agreed, ignoring his semi-hard cock and the water droplets still clinging to Billy's bare chest, ignoring Elijah's pretty little lips and flushed cheeks.

"I might need therapy," Billy mused.

"Oh, definitely," Dom snickered. "The lot of us ought to have shrinks."

"So, who's hungry?" Billy asked brightly.

"Bastards," Elijah growled.

##  _LOS ANGELES_

The first thing Dom noticed when he walked into the house was the almost tangible pall of old cigarette smoke. He understood immediately that it meant something was wrong.

Elijah rarely smoked inside. He was too innately courteous to inflict his habit on Dom, and generally only did it when it was pouring down rain or when they were both drunk enough that neither of them gave a damn.

The living room was dim and empty. He could see enough of the tiny kitchen to see that it was empty as well. Dom threw his jacket toward the couch, ignoring it as it slithered to the ground in an inky pile of slick leather.

The bedroom door was closed. Dom pondered knocking. He'd been told off before for not knocking. But something was wrong, and if Dom knocked, Elijah was more likely to tell him to bugger off than invite him in. And Dom wouldn't bugger off, of course, he'd go in anyhow. It seemed likely that he'd be in less trouble for not knocking at all, than if he knocked and then ignored the 'bugger off' that was likely to result. The wisest course of action was clearly to just let himself in.

So he did.

Elijah was on his back on the bed, eyes closed and headphones firmly covering his ears. All the better. Dom could now claim to have knocked and received no answer, if necessary. He could hear the music blaring through the headphones from across the room, tinny and distorted, but recognizable as Radiohead. He didn't bother trying to get Elijah's attention. He was hard enough to capture when he was absorbed in a particular sort of music at the best of times.

Instead, he walked over to the bed, studying the little, discontented crease between Elijah's dark brows, and the clenched curl of his fists at his sides. The sound of his voice was barely audible, not even loud enough to be properly termed a whisper, as he talked along with the lyrics.

Right then. This was definitely not good.

Not family. Dom had spoken to Debbie that morning -- he'd helped with breakfast, as she'd had some errands to run -- and to Hannah less than two hours ago. What else could it be? Work?

He wasn't sure how long he stood there when one of Elijah's hands uncurled and reached out to grope for cigarettes on the nightstand. He didn't open his eyes, but just slid searching fingertips along the edge of the surface, still murmuring lyrics that were barely understandable.

He was groping a good six inches from the packet. Another time, Dom would've found endless amusement in sliding the packet around, keeping it just out of Elijah's reach until he opened his eyes and grinned and called Dom a 'wanker' in his bizarrely addictive American twang. This time, he nudged the packet forward until Elijah's fingertips brushed up against it.

"Shit, Dom!" Elijah practically screamed, flinging himself upright in an instant.

Dom smiled wryly as Elijah pushed the headphones off his ears so that they hung around his neck, spilling the sounds of Radiohead more clearly into the silence.

"You fucking scared the crap out of me," Elijah said finally, and rubbed vigorously at his face with both hands. Dom had seen him do that before, and wasn't surprised to find Elijah smiling when he dropped his hands. Elijah didn't _have_ to rub his face like that to summon a cheerful expression -- Dom had seen him do it without the rubbing -- but he often did.

"What's up, 'Lijah," Dom asked, and sank down onto the edge of the bed.

"Just..." Elijah began, smiling, eyes bright and innocent of anything real, but then he stopped. He looked away, rubbing at his face again, as if wiping away that false expression ( _mental makeup_ , Dom thought). He didn't turn back toward Dom when he spoke again. "Franka," he said, his voice completely even and neutral. "She... we aren't together anymore."

Dom didn't want to feel happy (relieved, triumphant). He didn't even want to be remotely hopeful in the presence of Elijah's obvious unhappiness. He didn't want that, and he didn't want the guilt that crept slowly into his chest and roosted there at the memory of her wide, dark eyes, too knowing, too bloody perceptive.

God, he was such a fucking wanker.

"I'm sorry," he said, truth and lie all twisted up and bound together.

Elijah shook his head, face still turned away. "I'm not really surprised," he said quietly. "We've been apart for a while, haven't been able to see much of each other. He glanced at Dom, eyes on him for only a moment before sliding away. "Long distance things are hard."

Dom nodded. His hands were in his lap, fiddling restlessly with his rings. He couldn't think of a single fucking honest thing to say, and couldn't bear to repeat 'I'm sorry' because it was just too true and too completely false, and it made him feel sick to say it. He just sat there like a wanker, feeling like the world's worst friend because of the tiny, hopeful bubble in his stomach that he couldn't quite banish.

"Were you in love with her?" he asked, and hated himself for it. He'd wondered it before, more than once. He'd never asked though, and it was nothing but cruel to both of them to ask it now. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, but Elijah's eyes had already settled on Dom's face, and there was no way to unsay it. "It's none of my business," he muttered, words rushed and weirdly uncomfortable. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

Elijah smiled faintly (not a happy smile, and it made Dom's temples throb with impending headache) and curled his fingers into Dom's hand. Dom's hand closed around Elijah's automatically, and Dom just looked at their hands for a moment, feeling faintly shocked. "Of course it's your business," Elijah said, actual amusement lacing his tone. "Don't be a wanker."

"Don't try to sound British," Dom responded, and it was like when you learned how to balance your weight on your board; you didn't think about it, it just happened, and it was comfortable and natural like holding hands with Elijah in the middle of the day, smiling at him and making fun and seeing his smile widen into something warmer and more real.

"Cunt," Elijah drawled, eyes bright and amused and momentarily unshadowed.

"Asshole," Dom grinned back in clipped, flat American vernacular, and was rewarded with Elijah's laughter.

"No, I wasn't in love with her," Elijah said finally, shaking his head slightly again. "I think that was sort of the problem." The smile slipped off his lips, but it didn't leave him sad this time. He was looking downward, eyes not quite focused, and he looked more puzzled than anything else. "I... I think I could have been." The hand still curled into Dom's twitched a little, and Dom loosened his grip, prepared to let go -- faintly disappointed, but not really surprised -- but Elijah just altered his grip a little, and shifted his hand so his was on top of Dom's. "I could have been, but I didn't let myself," Elijah mused softly.

Dom swallowed, trying to think what to say, trying to keep his mouth from running off without his brain. Blurting out "Why?" would not be good here. Elijah's choice, to tell him or not to tell him, and it felt wrong to push any more than he already had. Because. Ulterior motives. Dom had ulterior motives, and he didn't like the way that felt.

The vague, musing look in Elijah's eyes retreated somewhat. When he looked at Dom again, he still looked a little puzzled, though. He shrugged with one shoulder and smiled crookedly. "I didn't want to be in love with Franka," he said. "Love is weird. It makes everything different. I think maybe I'm not ready for things to be different than they are right now. Yet."

 _Have you ever been in love, Elijah_? Dom was desperate to know, but he chewed on his bottom lip and didn't ask the question. "It changes things, yeah," Dom agreed carefully, trying to sort out what he wanted to say (wondering what Billy would say, and wishing Billy was here, because Billy was much better at saying the right thing than Dom would ever be). "But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Change is good. Right?"

 _Great_ , he thought, struggling to keep from groaning aloud. _I sound like a sodding advertisement._

But maybe that was okay, because Elijah was looking at him fondly. "You're really bad at this," he said, and flashed an impish grin when Dom's mouth fell open in surprise. "Really." He pulled his hand out of Dom's and patted him comfortingly on the knee. "Very bad. I thought gay men were supposed to be sensitive."

"Fuck you, too, Doodle!" he smirked, batting Elijah's hand away from where it was still patting. "Like you'd be any better if Billy and I split up."

Elijah smirked, but not before something flashed across his face, too fast to identify. "We'll never know, will we?" he said softly, smiling with his mouth, but with glittery, enigmatic eyes.

"No," Dom said, because it was true. It felt true. "Don't think we will."

Elijah stood up abruptly, sliding around Dom to get his feet on the floor. He pulled the headphones over his head and stopped the CD before tossing the player onto the bed.

"Elijah?" He wasn't sure what else to say. He only knew he didn't like the fierce concentration with which Elijah was gnawing at the edge of his thumb. He didn't like the way he was standing, shoulders rounded -- almost hunched -- and upper body bent slightly forward, like he'd been gut punched and was still hurting from it.

"I never hear you two say you love each other," Elijah said thoughtfully, and Dom could feel his face folding into a frown. "Not even on the phone. I mean, it's obvious, but you don't ever say: 'I love Billy. '"

"I love Billy," Dom said.

Elijah rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "I know, Dom. I just said that."

Dom just shook his head, baffled.

Elijah frowned at him, clearly expecting something, but Dom had no idea what. Elijah's frown deepened. "See, I thought for a while that you two were just" He made an inexplicable gesture with both hands. "Buddyfucking?" He said it like it was a question Dom was supposed to answer, but then didn't give him a chance. "See, but that didn't make sense, because I saw your face that night at the bar." He shook his head, frowned, and nibbled at his thumbnail again for a moment.

Dom half wanted to shake him, tell him to just spit it out already. There was obviously some kind of question here, or there was going to be, and Dom was fairly curious about what it would turn out to be. Besides, Elijah's anxiousness made _him_ anxious.

"And Billy kissed you _in a bar_ ," he said. Like that made sense. Except it _did_ , of course. "And I saw _his_ face, too." He stopped, and a slow smile slid onto his face. "Orli said Billy looked like he'd been elected the mayor of Domsville that night."

Dom snorted. Orli was an arse.

"But, see, then you two... it was like nothing changed. I mean, aside from the fucking -- which we were thankfully spared -- nothing else changed. It was... well, I could feel things changing with Franka, Dom. Not just between her and I, but other things, too. You and I. My mom and I. I think my mom was starting to think about grandchildren with German accents."

Elijah rolled his eyes again, this time also rubbing fretfully at the stubble on his scalp. It made a sound, a whispery little whisking sound that made Dom's palms itch to feel it, rub at it like that. "It was different than you and Billy. Not just a little different, but just _way_ different. And I think I'd rather have it like _that_ , like the two of you, because I could look at the way I felt about Franka, and it made me think about the way a roller coaster is, you know?"

Dom shook his head, but wasn't sure Elijah even noticed. He was making up and down motions with both hands, his face slightly knotted with concentration and something that Dom thought was confusion.

"Up a really big hill, not moving all that fast, but not all that slow either. And then you sort of balance on the top." He made teetering gestures, in case Dom didn't grasp the concept, apparently. "And then this huge, exhilarating drop with your stomach in your throat and you can't tell if you're laughing or screaming, and falling love with Franka felt like that. Or it felt like it _would_ feel like that."

"And that's bad, because?" Dom said, ignoring his dry lips and the tight twang in his belly that was probably jealousy.

" _Because_ , Dom," Elijah snapped, impatient, frustrated, maybe even a little angry, his gesturing hands temporarily stilled into balled fists. "Those kinds of things don't last. Because you get past that drop and you go up and down smaller hills much faster, and maybe the kind of loops that will drop you out and break your fucking neck if you aren't strapped in really tight, and then you're at the end. Full stop. Everyone take your time getting out while you catch your balance, watch your step, hope you enjoyed the ride, come see us again, haveanicefuckingday!"

"Elijah, mate" Dom started, his hands rising of their own accord, as if they wanted to soothe Elijah, who was now almost yelling, eyes narrow, cheeks flushed, brow creased into fretful ridges, but Elijah stepped away from Dom's hands and paced a quick (and necessarily small, there were clothes scattered all over the floor, not much room to walk) circle at the foot of the bed, kicking clothes furiously out of his path.

"You can't usually see the end of the ride," Elijah snapped. "That's why you get on, that's why people do it again and again, even after they've been on that ride before." He stopped, still and tense, to pierce Dom with his too-bright, too-blue eyes (eyes that Dom appreciated, sure, because they were fucking spectacular, as anyone could tell you, but which had never held him like this, making Dom a mirror of Elijah's tense, motionless body, because he'd never seen Elijah's eyes as sharp and intense as they were right now -- not even when Elijah had been Frodo). "I could see the end of the ride, Dom. So I didn't get on."

And there was definitely some kind of pain there, something that was comprised of frustration and disappointment, and even a little Frodo-like despair.

"Elijah," Dom said, and didn't try to touch Elijah this time. "That won't happen _every_ time. Sometimes what you think you're seeing isn't what you're really seeing. Sometimes it isn't really the end, it's just the way the track curves that makes it look like that. You can't know if you don't _try_ , mate."

Elijah shook his head. His gaze was steady. "I know it isn't always like that, Dom. I do. Because I know _you_ can't see the end, and _Billy_ can't see the end. And _that's_ what I want. I want not to be able to see the end before I've even got on the ride."

Dom didn't say anything. There didn't seem to be any conceivably helpful thing he _could_ say, so he just sort of looked at Elijah, feeling helpless and guilty.

"It's okay," Elijah said softly (comforting _Dom_ , for God's sake, and Dom was clearly the most useless wanker in existence), and gave him a crooked little smile. "It's just a thing, Dom. Nothing to be done. Don't worry about it."

"Let's go get very very drunk, Elwood. You broke up with your girlfriend and I haven't had sex in two months; we're entitled to get very fucking drunk."

Elijah beamed approvingly at him, and some of the weighty guilt lodged in Dom's midsection dispersed, much to his relief. "I knew you were sensitive, deep down, Sblom," Elijah quipped, his grin wide and infectious.

"Right. I was just having trouble locating it, as I keep it in the same place as my social filter and my common sense," Dom agreed.

"No wonder you couldn't find it," Elijah smirked. "I didn't even know you _had_ a social filter."

"Bugger off, Elwood, you twat," Dom grumbled.

: : :

"What is that, anyway," Elijah slurred. He had one arm looped around Dom's neck, and Dom was supporting the lion's share of his weight as they staggered out of the club, so he was looking up at Dom from an angle. He jabbed a blunt fingertip beneath Dom's jaw.

"Ow," Dom said, and pulled away slightly, "What is what?"

"A scar. You have a scar there," Elijah explained, and pressed his fingertip to it again, albeit more gently. "Where'd it come from?"

Oh. That. "A girl bit me," Dom said, and grinned a little at the memory, and at Elijah's giggling reaction to the information.

"Jeez, and it scarred? She must have bit you hard as hell!" Elijah sounded slightly horrified, but was still giggling drunkenly. "What'd you do?"

"How do you know I did something?" Dom objected, pretending to be offended.

"You always do something," Elijah informed him wryly. "Make yourself useful and hail a cab, will you." Elijah disengaged himself from Dom to slump up against the wall, and began patting himself down for his cigarettes.

Dom glanced up and down the empty street. "I put my hand in her knickers," Dom said, which was more or less the truth. "She objected by biting me." He slumped against the wall next to Elijah. Elijah lit a cigarette and sucked thoughtfully on it for a moment, his eyes narrowed, head dipped slightly to keep the scar in sight. Dom tipped his chin up obligingly, and Elijah touched it again, softly this time, grazing stroke of a single fingertip.

"How hard would you have to bite someone, to scar like that, I wonder," Elijah mused aloud, clearly considering the matter seriously, in spite of the fact that he was utterly smashed. "I mean, it had to have bled, right?"

Actually, Dom had bled and come at nearly the same moment, since Susan had squeezed his cock hard enough to make him whine at the same time she'd bitten him. It had been the first time Dom had consciously understood the nature of their relationship, though he hadn't actually known the terminology for it yet. She'd drawn back to look at him, once he'd finished shuddering and whimpering, her expression a mixture of outrage and delight, and had purred: "Why you filthy little cunt!"

"Yeah, it bled," he agreed, and shivered slightly as Elijah's finger slid across the tiny scar again. "Just a bit."

"What was her name?" Elijah asked in a tone gone slightly husky, a tone that made Dom's skin prickle.

"Susan," Dom answered, and shifted deliberately out of Elijah's reach. They were both just drunk enough to do something stupid at the moment, and as much as Dom fucking wanted that, he was fairly sure Elijah would be wrecked about it in the morning. He saw headlights down the street a bit, and moved toward the curb, squinting into the glare to try to make out if it had a light on top as well.

"Franka was a biter," Elijah said from behind him, quietly, as if to himself. "But she never left an actual scar."

The car drew close enough for Dom to be fairly sure it was a taxi, and he raised his arm. He thought it might be better to pretend not to have heard that. It did bad things to his peace of mind.

Once in the back of the taxi, Elijah slumped bonelessly against Dom's shoulder. He wasn't asleep, though. Dom could tell by his breathing.

After several minutes, it occurred to Dom that Elijah could see the scar on Dom's jaw line from the position he was in, and he wondered if Elijah was looking at it again.

It took everything he had not to check.

: : :

"Dominic?"

"Hey, Bills!" Dom paused, shirt half-buttoned, feeling his face light in a wide grin at the unexpected pleasure of hearing Billy's voice. "What's up, dude?"

"Dom, I beg you, never call me 'dude' again," Billy half-growled, half-laughed. "It's bad enough hearing it from Elijah. From you, it's just _wrong_."

Dom laughed, imagining the look on Billy's face. "Sorry, mate. It's all Elijah's fault, you know. He's Americanizing me."

"Heaven forbid," Billy objected fervently.

"What are you doing up, anyhow? It's the middle of the night!" And the fact that Billy was ringing him at three in the morning Glasgow time was enough to make Dom flush with pleasure, as ridiculous as that made him feel.

"Is it really?" Billy asked, amazement dripping from his tone. "Thank you, you young, suave, pseudo-American queer, for pointing that out to your elderly, mentally deficient, Scottish boyfriend. Whatever would I do without you?"

"All the joy would be leeched out of your pathetic existence," Dom predicted, grinning. "You'd slip into premature senility and Margaret would have to lock you up and tell the neighbors you'd moved to Guam."

"Guam?"

"Right. The beautiful island country of Guam is ideal for the mentally deficient, don't you know."

"No," Billy drawled, not laughing, but smiling audibly. "I didn't, actually."

"'S true, mate. It's Guam's primary industry."

"Ridiculous cunt," Billy said fondly.

"Prehistoric wanker," Dom agreed cheerfully. "So, why _are_ you ringing, then?"

"I rang earlier, but you were showering," Billy said. "Talked to 'Lijah for a bit."

"He didn't say," Dom muttered, finally remembering his shirt and resuming work on the buttons.

"No, I told him not to. I said I'd just ring back." Dom's fingers abandoned his buttons, hovering still in the air. "You're going out tonight?"

"Yeah. Chinese." He could hear the wariness in his own voice, and it made him want to grin and fidget at the same time. "Elijah knows a place..."

"Where is Elijah now?" Billy asked, cutting Dom off, voice slightly sharp. Dom's fingers twitched, an involuntary response to that tone.

"Uh, he's in his room. Getting ready." Dom licked at his lips. He was standing very still, breathing shallowly through his mouth, and he wanted to fucking laugh from sheer nerves. The tightening at groin and belly wasn't funny, however. It also wasn't entirely nervous. Anxiously hopeful, more like. It felt weirdly like Billy was in the room with him. He was reacting like Billy was, given nothing more than a certain voice tone over an international phone line more than five thousand miles long.

"Good," Billy said very quietly. "I gave you something in Mexico. You remember." Not a question.

"I... uh, yeah." Dom's mouth was suddenly dry.

"I want you to get it and put it on."

Dom didn't say anything, didn't move. Not immediately. He just stood there, feeling a bit dizzy, and thinking: _this is new._

Although that wasn't precisely true.

The feel of it wasn't new at all. It was entirely familiar. The only thing that was new was the distance between them, and the prospect of what would happen afterward.

Which would be nothing. Nothing but Dom alone on Elijah's couch mired in an agony of need that he would be unable to assuage himself, not completely, though he knew himself well enough to know he would give it a fucking try.

"Dominic," Billy murmured, and Dom shivered all over, head to foot. He could feel the hairs on the backs of his arms prickling, his skin tingling, his mind wanting to sort of fold over into compliance.

"Yeah. I'm here, Bill."

"Go get it. Put it on." Calm, firm, and expectant; Dom knew the tone. "Leave it on until I tell you to take it off."

"Fuck, Billy!" Dom growled, but his feet were already taking him into the living room in spite of the buzzing questions in his brain. _How long will that fucking be? Why? What exactly are you planning, you evil bastard?_

He toed his holdall out from under the end table and bent to rifle in the front pocket, fingers skimming over his camera, several rolls of undeveloped film in their little canisters, ink pen, before finding what they were looking for. Fairly short length of leather, leather buckle, only a single glint of metal from the entire length, and for a long moment after he fished it out he just looked at it and said nothing.

He could smell the leather (stupid, because he wore leather around his wrists every day and didn't ever really consciously smell it, but this was different, of course), and he knew how it felt to wear it. He knew what it looked like, too, and he knew what _Billy_ looked like when Dom wore it, which was far more important, really. "Okay," he muttered, and rubbed at his hair. "Okay."

"Put it on. I'll wait."

"Christ," Dom breathed, and threw a glance over his shoulder toward Elijah's bedroom. The door was ajar, and the door to the loo across the hall was closed. Which meant that Elijah would, at some point, be making the trip back between loo and bedroom. Or, quite possibly, from loo straight to living room. "Christ," Dom breathed again, and padded into the kitchen. The tile was cool beneath his bare feet as he twisted the leather between his fingers nervously, and deliberately did not consider why the idea of Elijah catching him putting the collar on made his face burn.

He held the phone between shoulder and ear so he could get both hands on the buckle. It was black and covered in leather itself, so as not to pinch in tender places, which made it stiff and a little difficult. That, in combination with Dom's sweaty hands and slightly unsteady fingers, made Dom mutter curses under his breath as he fumbled at it. He could almost _hear_ Billy laughing at him, though Billy wasn't actually making a sound.

"Maybe Elijah could give you a hand?" Billy murmured silkily after more than a minute of Dom fumbling and cursing. "He's got clever fingers."

"Thinking about that isn't likely to help me get this thing on any time soon, you know," Dom noted, but he was smiling anyhow, which was ridiculous, considering the context, because the smile felt soft and probably quite goofy.

"I know," Billy teased, warm and amused.

"Ah," Dom said, the tongue finally finding the opening, and then chewed on his lower lip as he slid the leather through the other side of the buckle. Just the feel of it around his throat, the weight of it (though it was not at all heavy) was enough to make his body shimmer with interest and expectation. His palms were sweaty, his heart pounding, and he was bouncing a bit, up and down on the balls of his feet. His cock was more than half-hard in his trousers.

He was also grinning. He could feel a laugh hovering somewhere in his throat, something that was probably closer to a shout than a laugh, really -- excitement rather than amusement -- and his brain had stopped its endless litany of questions that Billy wouldn't have answered anyhow. "I hope you bloody know what you're doing, Billy," he said, once the collar was firmly in place and he was again holding the phone in one hand. The collar was still cool around his throat, right now. He knew it wouldn't be for long, but he always liked it when it was, liked the way it made him fiercely aware of it.

"Relax, Dommie," Billy purred. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Because I wouldn't want to have to kill you, Bills."

"Shut the fuck up, Dommie," Billy retorted. _Phone sex voice_ , Dom thought, then had to bite down on his lip to resist a fit of dangerous giggles that wanted to escape at the five hundred times he'd thought that about Billy's voice, since this was the first time it actually applied.

Sort of.

"Are you done?" Billy asked, quiet murmur of sheathed aggression.

"Yeah," Dom managed.

"Which notch, Dommie?"

Dom hesitated, then ran his fingers along the leather, counting. "Third," he said finally. "The third from the end."

Billy was unsettlingly quiet on the other end of the line. "You're going to eat?" he asked finally.

"Yeah." Dom's voice sounded hoarse, unfamiliar. He thought about clearing his throat, but then didn't.

"When you finish eating," Billy said carefully, "I want you to tighten it. So it leaves a mark, Dominic."

Just hearing that was enough to send blood to both Dom's face and his groin. He heard the too-quick, uneven sound of his own breathing as if from far away. He slid two fingers up under the collar, testing the give. One notch tighter wouldn't be enough to choke him, wouldn't even be _that_ tight, but... It would be enough to redden the skin. It would be enough that he would feel the collar constricting his neck, would feel it against his Adam's apple when he swallowed. The buckle, especially, would press in enough to leave a reddened indentation. He shook the thought of how that would _feel_ off with difficulty.

He had no doubt that Billy knew the exact measurements of the collar, and the exact measurement of Dom's neck. He smiled a little at the idea of Bill at work with a measuring tape while Dom slept, but it wouldn't have fucking surprised him. Not in the least. "I hope you're aware, however, that circulation is particularly important to..." he began, teasingly, and Billy cut him off.

"Do it," Billy instructed sharply (and Dom's free hand rose, automatically obedient, before Dom recalled that Billy didn't mean _right now_ ).

"Yes," Dom agreed, and heard quite plainly how it came out, soft and compliant and, yes, pointless to deny it, completely willing. "I will."

"I know," Billy said. Then, so low it was nearly a whisper: "Have fun with Elijah, Dommie."

And rang off.

Dom looked at the phone for a moment, then thumbed it off and set it on the kitchen counter. He slid his fingers under the collar again, and tugged just to feel the give of it, hear the creak of the leather.

It wasn't until he heard a door (bedroom, his brain identified automatically, because the door to the bedroom creaked and the door to the loo did not) open down the hall that it occurred to him that Elijah was going to _see_ it.

Of course he was fucking going to see it. Dom would have had to wear one of Elijah's ugly fucking turtleneck jumpers to hide it.

Which Billy also certainly knew.

For a moment, Dom hovered on the edge of panic. It was fucking stupid. The collar wasn't any worse than anything else Dom had chosen to wear. It wasn't covered in spikes or D rings or anything. Well. One D ring. But that could be passed off as decorative. It was fucking stupid, Elijah was just going to make fun of it, and Dom could completely live with that reaction. Yes. Because the alternative was Elijah sliding a finger into the ring (as Billy was wont to do) and jerking him down to his knees, and hope was all well and good, but Elijah was _not_ going to do that. Which was for the best, since Dom would probably die of shock right there, if he did.

But Elijah _could_ , Elijah fucking _could_ do it, and Dom would

Dom would go right down. He _knew_ it.

Because he was fucking _conditioned_. He was fucking conditioned by the sound of Billy's voice and the feel of leather encircling vulnerable skin. He was conditioned to react to that in a very specific way, and he was doing it right now, whether he liked it or not. He was fucking subbing right now, and he was about to do it with Elijah right there. An unwitting witness. More than that: an unwitting _participant_.

And Billy _knew_ it.

Dom resented the hell out of the fact that his lips were trying to quirk up into a smile.

Because.

Well it was just torture, wasn't it? Yeah, of course it fucking was. Deliberate and malicious torture; Billy knew exactly what he was doing. He'd _said_ as much!

And it _would_ be. No doubt about that. Billy had set Dom up perfectly; there was no way for Dom to avoid the next few hours. He would just have to endure it, because there was no fucking way Dom was going to take the bloody thing off. And Billy knew _that_ , too.

But Dom's lips were smiling, and Dom's blood was rushing, because _he_ knew something, as well.

Billy wouldn't leave him like this. Billy had something planned, something for later, because Billy was cruel and manipulative as fuck, but he was a brilliant dom, and he would never strand his sub this way.

And it would be worth it.

"Hey," Elijah said from behind him, and Dom jumped a little and turned to face Elijah without thinking. "You going to be ready some time tonight?" Elijah asked, gesturing toward Dom's still half-buttoned shirt. Dom watched Elijah's eyes linger on his naked belly for long moments. Elijah's expression didn't shift (he was an actor, after all). The hint of a frown remained steadily in place, but Dom could feel Elijah's interest. Inside his trousers, Dom's cock twitched in acknowledgement of Elijah's attention.

"Sorry, mate," Dom managed in a mutter. "Billy rang, and I got distracted." Dom ordered his fingers back to buttoning as Elijah glanced away from Dom's belly and grinned, genuine and warm.

"He called earlier," Elijah admitted, and waggled his eyebrows comically. "I was pathetically easy to coerce into keeping quiet." He grinned unrepentantly.

"Cunt," Dom accused, and Elijah stuck his tongue out.

"Hey!" Elijah exclaimed. "What's that?" And before Dom could really think of backing away, Elijah had stepped close and was poking at the collar around Dom's throat curiously. Dom's fingers stuttered in their task for a moment (long enough for Dom's cock to remind him once again that it was awake and aware, and that it planned on staying that way for the foreseeable future), and the fact that Elijah occasionally abandoned the entire concept of personal space hit Dom hard, just below the belt.

"What does it look like, wanker," Dom said, and turned slightly to get a bit further out of Elijah's little pocket of space, that envelope of _presence_ that he carried around with him without realizing it (or maybe he did realize it, he was an actor, maybe he just didn't really know everything he could _do_ with it yet). Dom resumed buttoning, his face tipped downward so that his chin bumped up against his chest, both to conceal his expression from Elijah and to avoid looking too closely at Elijah's pretty pink mouth, which was unnervingly close.

Elijah poked the collar again, and then ( _fuck_ ) hooked a finger beneath it, warm between the leather and Dom's skin, and gave it a yank. Dom didn't look up. He could feel the heat blossoming in his face, and his cock was doing bloody push-ups inside his jeans. "Don't yank my chain, Elwood," Dom muttered, and stepped away, toward the living room, where he could sit down on the couch and put on his boots in order to have a good excuse to keep his face tipped down.

Predictably, Elijah followed him. "When did you get that? I haven't seen it before."

"I've had it a while," Dom said, dragging his boots over and unlacing them. "I just haven't really felt like wearing it." Both at least somewhat true.

"Goes with the wristbands," Elijah said thoughtfully, and began rummaging on the coffee table, probably looking for wallet or keys, or possibly both. "I like it. Studly."

Dom snorted at the phrasing, but couldn't deny that the bit about Elijah liking it made him grin. And he couldn't help but wonder how _much_ Elijah liked it. If his top instincts were making any sort of noise in reaction to something as blatant as a collar around Dom's neck. If Elijah would know how to interpret them, if so.

He laced his boots up quickly and grabbed his wallet off the end table. Elijah'd found his keys, and was jingling them impatiently in one hand. "Right," Dom said. "Ready when you are."

"You need to leave your shirt open another button," Elijah said matter-of-factly. His eyes were lingering thoughtfully on the collar, but Dom couldn't really read what was in them. "What's the point of even wearing it if you're not going to draw attention to it?"

"Um," Dom said, and Elijah stepped forward and flicked the button in question open with one deft hand.

"There," he said, corners of his lips curled up into a small smile that wasn't _quite_ a smirk, but was perilously, beautifully close. "Better."

"Okay," Dom said simply, intensely aware of Elijah's attention on his throat, and very slightly nervous about the fact that he couldn't quite read Elijah right now.

"Let's go," Elijah said, and proceeded to do so. Dom followed along obediently ( _yes sir, Mr. Wood, whatever you say, you're the boss_ ), because Elijah had told him to.

It was going to be a difficult night.

~~

Even drunk, Elijah was disturbingly deft with his chopsticks. "No," he was saying, while one hand twirled a chopstick between pale fingers. "It was Hannah's birthday." He grinned a bit guiltily. Dom was more than a little drunk himself (but not _too_ drunk, because it wouldn't do to pass out and miss whatever Billy was planning) and inordinately fixated on Elijah's fingers. Part of it had been the button -- Elijah's fingers flicking Dom's button open with practiced ease, casual and quick -- but most of it was just the way that Elijah's fingers seemed nervous.

Dom was a fidgeter when he was nervous, and he knew the signs. Elijah's hands could not stay still. He didn't even seem to be aware that he was doing it. He was holding a cup of yellow rice wine in his left hand, gesturing with it (and slopping it over onto his fingers occasionally, which left Dom with the interesting and distracting question of what the combination of rice wine and Elijah's skin would taste like) and talking at the same time, seemingly unaware of the chopstick that whirled through the fingers of his right hand.

"One of Hannah's friends showed up with her older sister, and she was nearer to my age than theirs, so she hung out with me during the party. I don't think it was _bad_ , exactly." He shrugged with one shoulder. "It was _fast_ , though. And I was fucking terrified."

"How old, then?" Dom asked, and swallowed down a burning mouthful of wine.

"Fourteen."

"Elijah!" Dom crowed, and had the satisfaction of seeing Elijah's looking both sheepish and smug at once. "You delinquent! You complete slut!" Elijah flushed deeply, and it was almost a relief to see him blush, to remember that he could, because youth and inexperience hadn't really been noticeable in Elijah all night.

The night had continued much as it had begun (with Elijah casually flicking open the button on Dom's shirt so that the collar could be more easily seen). Dom was wide open, he could feel it, raw and exposed, his reactions and responses dictated by the leather around his neck. He couldn't resist the half-state of submission it was holding him in (and didn't really fancy trying, he'd always been crap at resisting), and Elijah's slightly altered behavior wasn't helping matters on that front any.

It was subtle, more of a tone and expression thing than anything else, but Dom could see it, and just being aware of it was enough to drive him half-mad with curiosity, and the desire to _push_ , to see what Elijah would _do_ if Dom pushed. Would Elijah respond without thought? Would he do it on instinct (as he seemed to be doing so far), or would he really consciously understand that he could push Dom back, and act on that?

Elijah's body seemed to already know what his brain had not yet grasped; that he could have Dom, that all it took to make Dom respond was that appearance of aggression, the illusion of control. It was evident in Elijah's body language, in the way he'd slid a hand down to the small of Dom's back to guide him into the restaurant (without intent, Dom suspected), in the way his eyes darkened when they slid over the collar. Some part of Elijah was aware of what that collar meant. Some part of Elijah was already wanting what Dom had long suspected Elijah would come to want; it was merely the thinking part of Elijah's mind, the conscious recognition and acceptance of what he was wanting, that was lagging behind.

It was a bit unnerving; it had Dom off-balance, because Elijah wasn't maintaining that subtle demeanor completely. It was flipping back and forth, just Elijah, and then top-Elijah, and Dom hadn't really anticipated the extent to which Elijah's top-behavior made him harder to interpret to Dom. He closed down some, when he was doing the dominant thing; not to the extent Billy did (Dom had never met anyone who could close down the way Billy did), but similar, if to a lesser extent. And it made Dom nervous.

He even understood _why_ it made him nervous. Because he was pseudo-subbing here, he was hyper-aware of Elijah's wants and needs, and it was making him nervous that he couldn't quite tell, occasionally. That he couldn't interpret and provide. It was stupid, because he didn't _have to_ , not really. Elijah didn't know what he was doing, and expected nothing. Still. It made Dom jumpy.

The chopstick in Elijah's hand stilled abruptly (disabusing Dom of the notion that Elijah had forgotten he was even holding it), and Elijah made stabbing gestures in Dom's direction.

"You'll take someone's eye out," Dom objected, dodging in an exaggerated manner, though the chopstick was really nowhere near him.

"That's the point," Elijah grinned back, and then resumed twirling. "What about you? How old were you?" Elijah gave him a pointed look, brows arched.

"Sixteen," Dom admitted, and Elijah gave a triumphant smirk. "Sod off, Elwood. You've got to work a bit harder at it, with ears like these." He downed another tiny cup of spirits -- he strongly suspected that the amount of alcohol was not proportional to the amount of liquid consumed with this stuff -- and Elijah did the same. He was several of the little cups ahead of Dom, and it showed in his flushed cheeks and broad grin.

"Was it a girl?" Elijah asked, and the chopstick went still again. "Am I allowed to ask that?" he added, after a slight pause.

"Course you are. Although I reserve the right not to reveal sordid details about mutual acquaintances." Dom winked playfully, though he was quietly both amused and pleased at the fact that Elijah'd asked at all. Of course, there was already ample evidence that Elijah was more forthcoming when he was drunk.

"So?" Elijah prodded. The chopstick resumed twirling. _Chopstick mood indicator_ , Dom thought. "Was it?" Elijah's tone was still playful, teasing, but indisputably curious.

"Yes, it was a girl." And he could have said more, but he was curious, too. He was curious about what questions Elijah would choose to ask, both because of Elijah's present state of inebriation and the interesting glimmerings of dominance that were flickering at the edges of Elijah's demeanor.

"Was she pretty?"

"Yes, she was lovely, actually. A friend of my brother's."

"What was her name?" Elijah wanted to know.

"Susan." Susan had been not only Dom's first, but also his first domme. His only domme, actually. After Susan, it had been mostly blokes for anything more than casual, one-night encounters.

"She's the one who bit you," Elijah grinned, gesturing toward his own chin with the chopstick. "She forgave you, I take it?"

Dom nodded slowly. "Yes, she did. Eventually." And Dom could feel himself smiling, a combination of the memory of Susan, to whom Dom was sure he owed a great deal, and the fact that Elijah had even remembered that trivial bit of information, since they had both been quite drunk during that particular conversation.

"Were you drunk?"

Dom laughed and mimed flinging his cup at Elijah. "No. We were both sober. It was good. Not fast. She--" Dom smiled faintly in memory of how carefully she'd managed him, "--knew what she was doing. She was quite a girl."

"What about your first time with a guy?" Elijah asked, and it startled Dom, even though he'd almost been expecting it. Elijah was meeting his gaze from across the table, and Dom couldn't tell if the faint pink of his cheeks was due to alcohol or embarrassment. Dom shifted in his seat, uncomfortably aware that his cock was not now, and never had been, completely asleep. The collar around his neck was warm and snug around his throat, distraction and reminder. Billy, exercising his control over Dom long-distance.

The chopstick in Elijah's hand had gone still again. Dom took another quick swallow of rice wine, mostly just to feel the burn of it in his throat, and possibly to distract himself from the heat pooling in his groin.

It hadn't actually been all that different for Dom. Susan had been there, and had basically orchestrated the whole thing. Literally. It _was_ different, in the mechanics of the thing, but the tone of it had been quite similar. He wondered if telling Elijah that would freak him out. He wondered if the whole threesome thing would freak Elijah out.

That thought actually brought a faint grin to his lips, considering the circumstances.

"Do you really want to hear this story?" Dom asked, still grinning a little, but at least half-serious. He wasn't wild about the idea of making Elijah uncomfortable by going into the details, but Elijah _had_ asked. And. Well. One of the things they had talked about Elijah lacking was a frame of reference for the sort of thing they wanted from him. This seemed like an awfully good opportunity to sort of... give him one.

Elijah hesitated, the chopstick twitching a bit between his fingers. Then it resumed its twirling dance through Elijah's (clever) fingers, and he nodded. "Yeah. I want to hear it." And there didn't seem to be any confusion in Elijah's voice. And when Dom looked at him, Elijah met Dom's gaze -- obviously sloshed, but also obviously quite serious.

"All right," Dom agreed. He thought for a moment, about how to begin. "First, you have to understand that Susan was just not a normal girl. She was... well, she was older than me, more experienced, and she was a bit wild. Adventurous." Which was putting it very, very mildly. "I'd been seeing her for nine or ten months and one night, pretty much right in the middle of things, she asks me if I'd ever been involved in a threesome. Which I hadn't, of course. She tells me that she knows a bloke -- Greg, who I also knew, so it wouldn't be all uncomfortable-like." Elijah snorted, and Dom flashed him a grin. "And she tells me this bloke had asked her about it. I hadn't ever been with a bloke, which she knew, and she asked if I'd ever thought about it, which I had. At that point, I'd probably have promised to have my name legally changed to Arthur, King of the Britons, as long as she didn't stop what she was doing, so..." He shrugged. "I said I'd give it a go."

The chopstick, Dom saw, was now frozen between the first two fingers of Elijah's right hand, like an improbably long cigarette. Elijah's face was thoughtful, curious, but he didn't seem all that surprised at the threesome thing. "Was it weird?"

"No. Not really." Actually, Susan had pretty much ordered Dom about like a living, breathing sex doll, and it had gone quite smoothly. "There was the bit where I had to try and coordinate what went where. I mean, I knew, but knowing and actually finding yourself in the middle of it are worlds apart. But they were both very patient with me."

Which wasn't entirely true. Dom had got at least one good swat from Susan, and a hissed: "Control yourself, Dom!" It made him grin to remember it.

"So it was good?" Elijah's tone was noncommittal.

Dom understood why. He suspected the question Elijah really wanted to ask was _Did it hurt_? It was a natural reaction, when you found yourself contemplating it for the first time. But it wasn't usually something you wanted to just ask. Dom hadn't asked, in fact, before the actual event. Right at first, the idea of doing the gay sex thing was pretty fucking unnerving all by itself. You most certainly didn't want to be sounding like you were _scared_ , on top of that.

"Yeah," Dom said, and smiled at the tiny frown on Elijah's face, the slight contraction of his brows. "It was bloody fantastic, actually." Elijah's brows rose a fraction, an unspoken invitation to continue. "Greg was careful, and it didn't actually hurt. It was uncomfortable, at first. It would have hurt if hadn't been done properly. But once I got used to it, it was it was brilliant."

And thinking about it now was causing a definite reaction. Dom had to shift again, and he spread his thighs a bit to make room. When he glanced up, Elijah was looking at him, eyes deeply dark and thoughtful. The chopstick was quivering between Elijah's fingers, and Elijah's eyes flickered down to the collar around Dom's throat very briefly. Dom's cock reacted almost as though it had been touched, pulsing with fresh blood. Dom was vividly aware of the way the head of his cock was rubbing against the denim of his jeans.

"I was lucky," he said seriously, and Elijah's eyes returned to Dom's. "I was lucky to have Susan. It felt safer, to have her there. I trusted her, and she trusted him, and it sort of relieved me from having to be afraid. She was an amazing girl."

"Okay," Elijah said after a long moment. "The extreme weirdness of that statement just hit me."

Dom laughed, but Elijah's expression was more bemused than uncomfortable, with the faint hint of a smile hovering around his lips. Elijah chucked a fortune cookie at Dom's head, but Dom plucked it out of the air. He was considerably more sober than Elijah, and his aim had been way off anyhow.

When Elijah looked away, Dom noted that being out from under Elijah's gaze was like being released -- temporarily, at least -- from some sort of lust-driven mind-control. _Jesus Christ_ , Dom thought, trying to think past the slow, throbbing ache in his groin. He needed to tighten the collar sometime soon, or he'd begin to experience a creeping but inexorable guilt. He thought about excusing himself to the toilet, but he wasn't sure where it was, here, and besides that he was just adjusting it, right? It wasn't like he was adjusting a fucking cock ring right here at the table.

He put down the fortune cookie and reached around behind his neck for the buckle. Elijah's eyes came back toward him -- Dom could feel rather than see them, as he had his face tipped down to give his hands as much room as possible -- probably just attracted to the movement, but Dom could feel himself reacting anyhow, could feel his cock shifting minutely, could feel his face and neck heating up. Elijah's attention made him almost as clumsy as he'd been when he put it on earlier, his fingers nerveless and unresponsive, and Dom was cursing mentally when he heard Elijah's chair scrape across the floor as he stood.

Dom glanced at him -- his fingers had frozen on the buckle of the collar -- and Elijah moved casually around the table, behind Dom's chair. Dom couldn't see Elijah, suddenly, and he felt electrified and jittery.

"You want it tighter?" Elijah asked softly, and Elijah's fingers pushed Dom's away from the buckle. Dom's hands drifted down to his lap, and Dom swallowed hard and resisted the urge to press his palm against his groin.

He could feel Elijah's breath on the back of his neck. "Yeah," he managed. "Just one notch."

Elijah's fingertips brushed the nape of Dom's neck as he worked the leather free of the buckle. He tugged it carefully tighter (Dom was burning, Dom was fucking burning up), and slid a finger between the collar and Dom's neck. Testing it. "Okay?" he murmured, and Dom just nodded, afraid his voice would crack or tremble if he spoke aloud. Elijah pushed the leather back through the buckle, and then slid his finger under it again, tugging once. "You sure?"

"Yes," Dom said carefully, exercising years of voice control lessons for that single word.

Elijah circled around the table and sat back down.

For a moment, Dom did nothing. He wasn't quite willing to look at Elijah. He was afraid of what he'd see, afraid of how he'd react to what he would see. Afraid of how Elijah would react. He wondered if Billy had known how Dom's reaction would affect Elijah, if he had suspected that Dom's physical responses would trigger responses that Elijah couldn't yet control.

 _He doesn't know he's doing it_ , Dom reminded himself yet again. It didn't really help.

Billy was fucking evil.

Dom retrieved his abandoned fortune cookie and cracked it open. To his disappointment, it did not say: _All your patience will eventually be rewarded, and you'll get to shag Elijah senseless._

"What'd you get?" Elijah demanded, and jabbed Dom in the back of the hand with one of his chopsticks.

"Ow, Elwood! Quit jabbing me," Dom objected, rubbing at the red mark on the back of his hand.

"You like being jabbed," Elijah pointed out, smirking. "You just said so."

Dom was almost able to keep back the words that rushed to the tip of his tongue. Almost. "Put your money where your mouth is, or bugger off, tease!"

Oops.

For a moment, Elijah just looked at him. Then he snickered.

Dom snorted, both relieved and amused as Elijah tried to stifle a giggle fit of prodigious proportions behind one hand. "'S what I thought," Dom mourned, trying to keep his lips from twitching into a grin. "It's the ears, right?"

Elijah gasped laughter and shook the chopstick warningly at him. "Dude," he managed eventually. "Really, what does it say?"

"You have an unusually magnetic personality," Dom admitted. Elijah rolled his eyes and Dom grinned. "It's true, mate," he said, and handed the slip of paper over to Elijah as proof.

"Maybe it's a typo," Elijah suggested. "Maybe it meant to say: You have an unusually magenta personality?"

Dom guffawed (and made a mental note to tell Billy that one, he always appreciated Elijah's wit), and Elijah deteriorated into another brief fit of giggles.

"What about yours then?" Dom demanded.

"Um," Elijah said, and scrambled to crack open his cookie. He read the slip of paper, brows furrowed in concentration (they were rather small, and Elijah _was_ rather sloshed, Dom thought, amused). "Versatility is one of your outstanding traits," he announced. "Maybe ours got mixed up? I'm magnetic, you're versatile?"

"Are you sure you aren't magenta?" Dom inquired politely, while privately certain that they had _not_ been switched. Elijah's fortune was unsettlingly accurate.

"At the very most, I'm a masculine shade of plum," Elijah sniffed, and they both cracked up.

~~

They staggered halfway home before they conceded drunkenness and hailed a taxi. By the time they'd got back to Elijah's place, Elijah was down for the count, asleep and drooling drunkenly on Dom's shoulder. Dom manhandled him up the walk, Elijah shuffling obediently along with one arm clutching at Dom's waist and his eyes closed.

Dom had got Elijah into the bedroom and was trying to drag his boots off -- he hadn't failed to notice that Elijah was wearing thick-soled, square-toed engineer boots either -- when Elijah mumbled something unintelligible ending in "Billy."

"What, Doodle?" Dom asked, curious, and leaned over Elijah with his head tilted close.

"Miss Billy," Elijah slurred, and petted Dom's cheek with fingers that were slightly damp and clumsy. "I miss him. I miss Billy. Want Mexico."

For a moment, Dom said nothing. He looked down at Elijah's alcohol-flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, and Elijah looked back, blue-glimmer almost completely shielded by dark lashes. "I know, 'Lijah," he said finally. "I miss Billy, too."

"No," Elijah said, lips barely parted, just a breathy murmur of sound. "No. I love Billy."

Dom smiled slightly. "I know you do. I love Billy, too." He meant to go back to Elijah's boots when Elijah's eyes drifted closed again, but when he shifted, Elijah's fingers came up and snagged the D ring at his throat. Dom froze.

"I love you."

And it would have been the most amazing thing ever, if Elijah hadn't been completely sotted. Even pissed out of his mind, it made Dom smile.

"I love you, too, Elijah."

"I love you and I love Billy," Elijah repeated. He was frowning slightly now. "And you love Billy. And Billy loves you." Dom figured it was safe enough to lean in and kiss Elijah's forehead, smoothing away the frown-ridges with his lips. "I love you," Elijah muttered. "And I love Billy."

"Billy and I love you, Elijah," Dom whispered through dry lips, his throat tight and achy.

Elijah smiled slightly, but his eyes slid closed again, and this time he rolled onto his side, facing away from Dom.

Dom just stood there for long, silent minutes, and listened as Elijah's breathing evened out and deepened.

"We love you," he repeated finally, and sighed, scrubbing at his face with both hands. He decided to leave Elijah's boots. It wouldn't hurt him to sleep in them. "Stupid bloody yank," he added fondly.

~~

He wasn't sleeping when his mobile rang.

He was still thinking hard, for one thing. Thinking about Elijah's face and the sound of his voice, and it was just so fucking depressing, the whole sodding mess.

Also, he was expecting Billy to ring.

"Hi," Dom said, and grinned; his cock was abruptly twitching restlessly against his belly.

"Not sleeping?" Billy asked, just a trifle smug.

"Not as such, no," Dom replied, grin softening into a smile. "Control freak. Manipulative wanker."

"If you don't like it, I could always ring off," Billy threatened softly.

"You won't." It was Dom's turn to be smug now; he could hear the want in Billy's voice.

"Don't push me."

"You like it when I push you," Dom pointed out cheerfully.

Billy rang off.

"Bastard!" Dom hissed, and nearly gave in to the temptation to hurl the phone across the room.

He didn't, only because he knew that Billy would ring back.

Eventually.

~~

An hour and forty-two minutes later, his phone finally rang again. Dom nearly dropped it in his haste to answer the fucking thing.

"Are you done pushing?" Billy asked.

Dom bit his lip, stifling several cutting rejoinders. He should've known better the first time. Billy had never had much problem sacrificing his own pleasure to get what he wanted from Dom. He didn't know why he'd expected it to be different over the phone.

"Yeah," he breathed finally. He let his head fall back to rest against the couch cushions. "I'm done."

He closed his eyes and listened to Billy breathe for a while.

"I'm not much for beatings," Billy said thoughtfully, and Dom's eyes opened of their own accord to stare at the textured living room ceiling. His breath was caught somewhere in his throat. "I like hurting you, Dominic. I like doing it with my hands. I like to feel you under my hands. I like doing it with my cock. I like the way you look, the way you sound. I love the way you need it, but you still fight it. And you're right. I like it when you push." Billy paused, and Dom forced himself to breathe, letting the sound of Billy's voice settle him, finish what the collar had started. He closed his eyes and just listened. "When you push, you give me permission to push back. Push harder. You know that, don't you, Dommie?"

"Yes," Dom answered truthfully. He rarely thought about it that way, but he knew that.

"Good. It's good that you know that. I got the photographs you sent me."

 _Oh_ , Dom thought. _Oh_. And suddenly, the reason for this conversation was quite a lot clearer. Dom hadn't forgotten about them, precisely. He just hadn't expected them to have got to Billy quite so soon. He should have known as soon as Billy had mentioned the collar, of course.

"Oh," Dom said. His palms were sweaty.

"Quite," Billy agreed. "I've been thinking about them, which is exactly what you wanted, of course. Looking at them. Viggo?"

"Yeah," Dom said, and it came out a whisper.

"They're beautiful. You look so fucking gorgeous in a collar, griobon." Billy was silent for long moments, and Dom couldn't think of what to say. He knew which photo Billy was looking at, knew what he looked like in it and what he was doing, and his cock felt like it was going to fucking burst.

"I thought you'd like them," Dom said, which was absolutely true, yes, but that wasn't the only reason he'd had them taken. No. He had thought _this_ would happen, too. Not _exactly_ this, but something _like_ this.

"I _do_ like them," Billy purred. "I fucking love them, Dominic. But you know what I love even more? I love it that you went to Viggo and asked him to do this for you. I love it that you let him _see_ you like this. It's a fucking shame they're black and white, griobon. I'd like to see the pretty flush on your face."

Dom bit his lip and said nothing.

"But I think they'd be better," Billy paused, and Dom could almost fucking see the look on Billy's face; it was very clear in his mind: the twist of Billy's lips, the sneer, the narrowed gleam of his eyes. "More aesthetically pleasing, if you were marked."

Dom's eyes sank closed and he sighed, feeling his muscles loosen and relax and his skin tingle with the anticipation of pain.

Billy hadn't ever hit him with anything but his open hands. Nevertheless, Dom knew what he would use, if Billy chose to 'mark him': A belt or strap of some sort, because Billy liked leather.

And he could see how it would be. Leather around Dom's wrists and ankles, and the look on Billy's face. Probably a doorway, because Billy would want to be able to get to both sides of Dom. Billy was thorough; Billy was methodical. He would want to lay a fucking pattern. He would walk around Dom for long, torturous minutes, just looking, planning, letting Dom start to shake and sweat.

Billy would be fucking good at it, too. Dom didn't doubt that for an instant. Billy would know how hard and how long. Billy would read Dom like a fucking book, and Dom could almost feel the burnscrapetingle of warmed and abraded skin, he could almost feel the sweat and Billy's hands on the welts, and he was achingly tense on Elijah's couch, shivering.

"Impatient," Billy murmured in his ear. "Get your hand off your fucking cock, Dommie, I'm not ready for you to come."

Dom's right hand jerked guiltily away from his cock, and his face burned with predictable shame. "Sorry, I'm sorry," tumbled out from between his lips before he could bite down on the words and stop them. "I didn't mean to." He closed his eyes again at the sound of Billy's soft murmur of laughter. His skin still felt hot and scraped raw, like Billy was delivering the threatened beating with his voice, somehow.

"Wish you were here," Dom mumbled, his right hand roving restlessly over his naked thigh, close, but not close enough. "Wish you were here, Bills."

"I am here, Dominic," Billy said. "I'm here and you're here, so just relax and let me give you what you need."

"Yes," Dom agreed, a whisper, and it was funny that he was already completely willing to beg for that (and "please" slid out from between his lips even as the thought passed through his mind), that he was harder and further into submission right now than he'd have ever thought possible without Billy having so much as touched him. Clever, Billy was clever as sin. And Elijah hadn't fucking helped matters any.

"I'd like to see you right now, though," Billy purred through the mobile. "I know you're up on your knees on Elijah's couch, Dommie. I know you've got your knees wide open and your eyes closed, and you're scraping at the skin inside your thigh, because you can almost pretend you're touching your cock when you do that."

Dom rolled his right hand into a guilty fist, and then slid the edge of thumb against the welts his nails had left on the skin of his thigh.

"I want to strap you there," Billy murmured. "Tender skin, that, Dominic. It would stay marked for days." Dom choked for a moment, feeling it, almost, phantom pain. He'd never had the insides of his thighs whipped. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to imagine it, really feel it, and it made him shake slightly, made his breath a whispery sigh. "I know you were thinking about what I would do to you with a belt when you were stroking your cock."

"Bill," Dom murmured, pleading.

"Dominic," Billy answered, short and clipped, clearly amused. "Do you mark easily, Dommie? You bruise more easily than I ever expected, all that time that I was wanting you and wondering."

"You have hard hands," Dom heard himself whisper thickly, and he wasn't really surprised that he'd lost control of his tongue so quickly. He pressed the thumb on his right hand into the crease of his thigh and ran the nail hard from thigh to belly, almost-but-not-quite along the side of his cock. He didn't need to look to know that he'd left an angry red welt. He could feel the burn of it, and it was good, yes, but not as good as it would've been if Billy had left it.

Billy would have used his teeth.

"Answer the question," Billy said. "Do you mark easily? Will the welts bruise, do you think? When I'm done with you, will I be able to see the marks on your skin for a few days?" His voice deepened, dropped slightly lower, threatening. "Or will I have to lay them again?"

"God," Dom said, apropos of nothing. "Please."

"I've never made you cry, Dommie," Billy murmured. "I'd like to see your eyes wet and your face tear-stained. You didn't cry, even in New Zealand when you couldn't remember English anymore. What will it take, Dominic?"

Just knowing that Billy wanted to see it was almost enough, actually. Dom could feel the prickle behind closed eyelids. He could feel the lust and burn of Billy's need, not diluted by distance, as perhaps it should have been, and he was awash in it, both drowning and kept afloat by Billy's voice, Billy's words.

"I want to see you truly fucking repentant, Dominic," Billy whispered, and Dom nodded, his face burning, whole body blazing, want and craving and humiliation. "You want me to." And Dom knew what Billy wanted, knew Billy wanted to hear him say it, but he couldn't quite articulate it through dry lips in the sudden thick closeness of the air. "Tell me," Billy urged softly, but a command nonetheless, undeniable, and Dom didn't want to deny, would not risk another interminable wait.

"I want you too," he gasped. "Want it, please, now, Billy. Please."

"How do you like the collar, Dommie?" Billy asked. Dom choked out something that Billy ignored. "Did you tighten it?"

"Yes," Dom hissed, but that wasn't really true, was it? "No. No, I..."

"Yes or no?" Billy demanded silkily, unmistakably amused at Dom's confusion.

"Elijah tightened it," Dom managed to explain in a mumble while his face and neck burned at the memory.

Billy was silent for several heartbeats. Dom fisted his right hand on his thigh and tried desperately to ignore his cock.

"Did he now," Billy breathed finally, and his voice was very slightly unsteady. "And what did you do?"

"I... I let him," Dom admitted. "I just I just closed my eyes and let him."

"He sparked for you," Billy murmured. He didn't sound surprised, exactly. More like gratified. "He sparked dominant for you, didn't he?" But he didn't wait for Dom to answer. "Interesting. I wish I'd seen it."

"Billy, please," Dom whispered.

"Been too long since I tasted you, Dominic. I love it when you taste of fear and sweat and need."

"Jesus," Dom grated out. He'd come almost immediately when Billy finally let him, Dom knew it, and he needed it, after hours with Elijah, needed it just listening to Billy's voice. His cock was as conditioned as the rest of him was, conditioned to the sound of Billy's voice ( _Pavlov's cock_ , he thought fleetingly), just like the rest of his body, which shuddered at the sound of Billy's voice.

The short, blunt fingernails of his right hand were scoring the top of his thigh as he resisted the need to just fist his cock, just do it, but Billy would hear, Billy would know, and he knew better than to push Billy again tonight, no matter how tempting it was, no matter how much he needed.

"The next time I see you, Dommie, I'm going to make you cry," Billy crooned. "Gonna see you twist and struggle, griobon. Gonna mark that pretty fucking skin."

Dom panted as quietly as he could and said nothing, there was no air for it, and what the fuck else could he say? He needed, needed, his cock was buzzing with it and his balls fucking ached, and he didn't care about the inevitable shame, he just needed, he was fucking ready, and he wouldn't be able to resist much longer, surely Billy fucking knew that, surely he fucking _knew_. "For God's sake, Bill," he groaned.

"Go on, Dommie," Billy growled. "Go on, but don't you fucking come yet."

Dom's fingers were already sliding around his cock, yes, gingerly, carefully, because he really would come if he wasn't careful, and he stroked once, slow, searing, desperately needed friction. "Jesus fuck, Jesus," he whimpered, and he could hear Billy breathing hard, knew what it looked like when Billy had his own cock in his hand, knew the fierce look on his face and the tight play of muscle across Billy's belly and thighs just before he came. Dom knew that, had felt it and tasted it a hundred times, wanted it now, needed, needed permission. "Now," he gasped, and he no longer had control of his hand, it was working against him, and Dom twisted and pushed up into his own grip, God, yes. "Please, Billy, please, fuck," and he was going to, couldn't stop, needed, could feel it gathering in his belly, tight, and in his balls, yes. "Bill," he whimpered.

"I bet Elijah marks like a fucking dream," Billy breathed, and Dom's eyes snapped open, surprise and brighthoturgent lust, and his hand tightened and twisted hard without his permission. His thighs went taut, his balls contracted painfully, and for a moment he couldn't see, even with his eyes wide open. He couldn't see, didn't see him there, didn't think he was real, just Dom's want, his imagination, a conjuration, but he was, he was _there_ , unmoving, watching, eyes blue-steel-glitter of concentration, real, Elijah was fucking standing there, stormy-eyed and fucking watching, and it was too late, Dom was already breaking, shaking, shattering, spilling hot come over his own hand with Billy murmuring in his ear and Elijah's fucking eyes peeling Dom's over-heated skin right off his fucking body until he was nothing but raw and smoldering nerve endings.

Even when he started breathing again, even when the shuddering, clenching jerk of his hips had stopped, even when he could hear Billy ("Dominic? Dom?") talking to him through the mobile Dom was still holding up to his ear, Dom couldn't think what to say.

Because.

Because he'd just fucking come while staring straight into Elijah's eyes.

Because Elijah hadn't moved, hadn't fled, hadn't looked away or even spoken.

Because Elijah's face was closed and inscrutable, a mask, but his eyes were hot and fevered, and Dom understood what he was reading in them.

"Elwood," he managed finally, a hoarse and uneven sound like cloth tearing in the thick silence.

"Oh Christ," Billy whispered in Dom's ear.

"Elijah," Dom said, and still nothing else, because what the hell was he supposed to fucking _say_?

How long had he been standing there?

Elijah said nothing, and Dom knew it was probably only moments, seconds really, before Elijah turned away and vanished back down the hallway. But they were long seconds, stretched and eternal, eons in every heartbeat.

Dom didn't move, even after Elijah had vanished. He felt stunned and bruised, and he just listened to Billy breathe, tight and even and deliberate, as though breathing was one of those things that was painful, but had to be done.

Eventually, Billy said: "Dom, are you all right?"

"Yes," Dom answered, but it was automatically uttered through numb lips, and he wasn't sure how true it was.

"He saw?"

"Yes." He felt almost nauseous with uneasy dread. He forced himself to his feet anyway and shuffled into the kitchen to wash the come off his hand, cradling the phone between ear and shoulder, though Billy wasn't saying anything. Dom's head was throbbing with tension.

"How long?" Billy asked finally.

"I don't know, Bill. I opened my eyes, and he was standing there."

"Bugger," Billy muttered succinctly.

"Yeah," Dom agreed. "Pretty much."

"Dom, I'm sorry. Honestly, it never occurred to me he might actually get up at three in the morning and fucking _see_ you." And Billy sounded really upset, his voice a little hoarse and unsteady.

"Don't be. Neither of us could have known, Bills." Besides. "Even if I'd suspected that the chance existed, I might have risked it. I mean, he drank so much at dinner, I can't believe he even woke up. But even if he hadn't drunk, even if he'd only been sleeping, Bills, I might have risked it." No might about it, really. Because. Jesus, because. "It was good. It was bloody amazing."

Even the part where he'd come with his eyes locked with Elijah's shimmering gaze. Maybe even _especially_ that part.

"It was my first go at phone sex, actually," Billy admitted, and Dom could hear him smiling a little.

"Bloody brilliant amateur effort," Dom announced in a mock sportscaster voice.

"Wanker," Billy muttered fondly. Then: "You'll be all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. It's not the first time he's caught me. Just the first time he's actually caught the end of the show, so to speak."

Dom tried to keep his tone light, but he could feel his face heating again. And truthfully, he wasn't at all sure that it would be all right. The look on Elijah's face had been impossible to interpret. But there wasn't a thing Billy could do about it, so there was no point to letting him worry.

"You can take the collar off," Billy said. "At least get rid of that bit of incriminating evidence."

Dom snorted. "Bit late for that," he said, but went to work on the collar with the fingers of one hand anyway. "He'll probably humiliate me completely in the morning."

Dom hoped.

"If you need me, you'll ring?"

"Of course I will," Dom assured him. "Don't fret, Bills. We've been through this before, 'Lijah and I."

"I remember," Bill said, chuckling. "Cheetos."

"Yeah," Dom agreed, smiling slightly, but not laughing. Something about the smolder in Elijah's eyes made Dom strongly suspect that this particular incident was not going to result in laughter and mocking. It was more likely that it was one of those things Elijah would never mention but would always be there between the two of them, sort of simmering on the back burner.

As time went on, there were more and more of those. Not bad things, necessarily, but things that were unresolved. Things that couldn't really _be_ resolved. Not between the two of them, anyhow. Any possible resolution lay somewhere in the future, and had to be resolved by all three of them, if they were going to be resolved at all.

"Dom," Billy murmured. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Bills," Dom said, which was the complete and utter truth, and consisted of layer upon layer of things.

Dom missed it being simple, most especially. This situation was so complicated, so involved, and the longer he existed in it, the less he seemed to know what to do. He thought of Elijah's face in Mexico, the way that he had looked from Dom to Billy, the puzzlement and the guilt.

He thought of Elijah murmuring: "Want Mexico," with the scent of rice wine strong on his breath and the truth of his eyes muted by the shadow of his lashes. It was so easy to read that as Elijah coming to some kind of conclusion, moving toward understanding. It was so easy to hope.

But Elijah had done nearly the same thing in New Zealand, crawling drunkenly naked into bed with Dom and Billy, so maybe it meant nothing.

And still, some small, desperately hopeful bit of Dom's mind whispered: _He didn't say the words then, though. He didn't tell me he loved us; he didn't stroke his fingertips along my cheek and smile._

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Billy," he whispered. He sank back down onto the couch and pulled his comforter up to his waist. He felt fragile. Like something that had been broken and glued back together, something permanently weakened by circumstance.

It wasn't something he was used to, and it was just fucking scary.

"You don't have to do it, Dom. You can come home. We can let this go, if that's what you want."

But Dom knew better than that. He could hear it in the careful tone of Billy's voice, gentle but neutral, because Billy was meticulous about not influencing Dom's desires, Dom's decisions.

There was no way to let this go. Not really. The decision had been made in Glasgow, but it had been true in New Zealand long before either of them had spoken of it. Before the night Billy had first mentioned it in a club in Wellington, before Dom had seen Billy's wary exhaustion their last night in New Zealand.

Billy had known, then, how this would be. Of course. He'd known because he'd done it before, because he'd done it with _Dom_ , and he'd known that there was nothing they could do about it, because sometimes there didn't need to be a decision. Sometimes things just were. They couldn't decide to let it go, even if they wanted to (and Dom did not, and he would've bet everything that Billy felt the same, and knowing it made him feel stronger and weaker at the same time). It wasn't possible. It wasn't something they'd chosen in the first place.

It just was.

"I'm sorry about New Zealand, Billy." Dom had thought it before, but he'd never said it.

"Don't be," Billy murmured. "Don't ever be, Dom. It was worth every minute. It was worth everything, and then some."

"Tell me this will be, too," Dom asked, and hated himself for needing that, for wanting it from Billy, when he knew Billy couldn't give it to him.

And Billy didn't, of course. Dom had known he wouldn't. Billy didn't have it in him to lie to Dom, not even to make him feel better. It was too important. Dom understood that, even though he couldn't help wishing that Billy would, just this once.

"I don't know. But it _could_ be, Dom. It could be worth everything, it could be everything we want, everything _he_ wants. That has to be enough."

And the fact that Billy's voice was slightly unsteady was frankly terrifying.

~~

Later, Dom stood at Elijah's bedroom door with his brow pressed to the cool wood and listened to Elijah shifting restlessly in his bed. Elijah wasn't sleeping any more than Dom was, Dom was certain. It took him more than an hour to work up the nerve to open the door and go in.

Elijah's open eyes reflected light from the window as he watched Dom come in, but he didn't say anything.

Dom didn't say anything either. There was too much to say, and if he started, he would never stop. He couldn't even tell Elijah he was sorry. It would start with that, but it would end with: " _We love you, be ours, I can't take this_." And it was better to say nothing at all. The tension in Elijah's body made that painfully clear.

"Can't sleep?" Elijah murmured, and Dom shook his head dumbly and pulled anxiously at the leg of his boxers with clammy, sweat-damp fingers. "Come on, then," Elijah invited, sliding a bit to one side and lifting the duvet in invitation.

And Dom couldn't have stopped himself for anything. He slid into bed beside Elijah, and for a moment they were both still, the hand spans of sheet like galaxies between them, and Dom loathed the distance with a fierceness that made the back of his throat sting with acidic bile.

"It's okay," Elijah whispered. "It never happened."

It was horrible because it was both exactly what Dom needed and more than he could take. He rolled toward Elijah, and Elijah's arms went around him easily, a perfect fit, and Elijah's chin rested lightly on the top of Dom's head, and it was all so _familiar_ , so fucking _right_ , and Elijah didn't even understand what was happening.

Dom was shaking -- not crying, though he almost wished he could, he almost wished he could just bawl and release the tension and guilt and anger roiling in his chest, but he'd never really needed or wanted to cry like this, and he didn't know how now that he did -- and Elijah was rubbing soothing circles on Dom's back, silent and supportive and gentle and _Elijah_.

And he knew Elijah thought he understood this.

He knew Elijah thought this was guilt, Dom's guilt at wanting Elijah, loving Billy but _wanting_ Elijah, and it was almost agonizing to be receiving comfort for the wrong fucking thing.

But it was all he could have, all that he could take from Elijah in good conscience (good conscience being entirely fucking relative in this case), and Dom took it, Dom let the shakes run their course in Elijah's arms, listened to Elijah breathe and eventually relax, and some time just after the shadows in the room had begun to lighten with dawn, Dom fell asleep with Elijah's heartbeat thudding gently in his ear, knowing that they would never talk about this, but that it would always be there, lurking in the back of both their minds like phantoms.

: : :

One night, Elijah brought someone home with him. He didn't usually. Dom didn't know if that was out of politeness or shyness or what. Whatever Elijah got up to, he got up to somewhere else, most of the time. And usually, Dom was glad. Usually, Dom didn't _want_ to know. Usually Dom was content in ignorance.

And sometimes Dom wanted to know with an almost painful desperation.

He did bring a girl home with him on occasion, though, and it would not have surprised Dom if he had brought a girl home this time. Elijah's girl preferences were well documented and understood. Dom was occasionally envious of those girls (okay, rabidly envious, not to put too-fine a point on it), but they didn't send him into paroxysms of lust or jealously. Mostly.

It wasn't the same for him as it was for Billy. He thought maybe it had to do with the way Billy thought of himself. Billy considered himself bisexual, and in the same way that this made it allowable for him to want anyone and everyone, it made it easy for him to be jealous of anyone and everyone. Billy wasn't much for jealousy, all told. He was too in control of himself to be overtly jealous or possessive. But it was there sometimes, nevertheless.

Dom thought of himself as more or less gay. He might shag the occasional bird, it wasn't totally out of the question, but when it came to the things that mattered, Dom liked blokes. Always had. And it was hard for him to be too jealous of girls, even girls shagging Elijah Wood, because he could never quite see anything involving a girl as all that serious. He didn't really feel threatened by them. It was probably sexist or something. Maybe he should keep a look out for militant feminists.

So Dom wasn't particularly jealous of birds and Billy wasn't the type to get all possessive anyhow, and the girls had never been much of a thing.

Except for Franka.

They could both tell when Elijah was just... playing. Having fun, having a good time, and being a young and obscenely beautiful man with talent, money, and those fucking _eyes_. Billy said Dom knew by instinct and Billy knew by watching. Which Dom really thought was only so much rubbish, as Billy's instincts where spot on, and combined with his _mind_ , the way he seemed to be able to think around corners, to _see_ around corners, he was possibly the most formidable person Dom had ever met.

Whatever the mechanics of the knowledge, they had both understood: Franka hadn't been merely Elijah playing.

Dom had understood the serious nature of Franka just as clearly as Billy had, and he hadn't been surprised when Billy had shown up unannounced and grim, "Tell me about her," the first words out of his mouth.

Billy, tight and burning with jealousy, had been particularly cruel and creative (to Dom's delight) and had seemed to take some kind of furious satisfaction from tying Dom to the bed (sometimes Elijah's bed, sometimes an anonymous hotel-room bed -- Billy hated hotel-room beds, he said they had no personality) whenever Dom and Billy where robbed of Elijah's company by Franka or Franka-related activities.

They hadn't talked much about Franka. There was nothing to do, nothing they could do. Dom had speculated on how much trouble it would be kill her and hide the body, and Billy had just looked at him, eyes the bleak green of the sea under thunderclouds, and said: "You wouldn't touch a hair on her head, if he loves her. And neither would I."

Which Dom had known, really, but hadn't wanted to know.

But this wasn't a girl. Not even a girl as perilous as Franka had been. This was a bloke.

Dom didn't open his eyes when he heard them come in. He just laid on the couch and feigned sleep as he realized that the soft murmurs he could hear coming from the direction of the door were both decidedly masculine. He laid there and didn't move, didn't open his eyes, barely fucking breathed, because if he moved or even thought about speaking, only God knew what he would do or say.

They murmured quietly, and then kissed, Dom heard it, Elijah fucking Wood snogging another bloke right there in the tiny little hall that led from door to living room, and after a moment, he clearly heard Elijah _moan._ He was sure it was an Elijah moan. He had not, in fact, ever actually participated in an Elijah moan, but he had heard enough of them to be sure.

 _Oh fuck,_ he thought, and it was fucked up, really fucked up, because he'd been waiting for this, _they_ had been waiting for this, but now that it was actually happening, he was simply not liking it. No. Not liking it one little bit.

Yes, it was good; this was what they wanted to happen. _Yes, Elijah, go into your bedroom, take that fucker -- whoever he is -- with you, get up to whatever with the bastard, yes; do_. Because that was what they wanted. Right. That was it. Finally. Do it. Get rid of it. Go.

But there was a healthy dose of _Get your fucking hands off of him, he's ours_ there, too. Oh yes. That there was.

So he lay sort of frozen as he listened to them snog, listened to Elijah making quiet, urgent sounds (he was snarling into the dark, he knew it, but he couldn't quite stop it), listened to them moving slowly through the living room and into the back hall. They weren't particularly loud, but they were sort of clumsy, bouncing off walls (and Dom could imagine why, could see the two of them tangled together in his mind's eye, still kissing, hands roaming, thoughts too scattered to worry about watching exactly where they were going) until the sounds became muffled and distanced, and the door to Elijah's bedroom closed.

Then he opened his eyes and stared into the dark.

Why wasn't Billy doing this part again? It was Billy who was good with the self-control thing, not Dom, so why the hell wasn't Billy here listening to the sound of a drawer opening (condoms? lube? ) and closing in Elijah's bedroom?

Why the fuck was it Dom was here by himself while Elijah shagged somebody (and just who the fuck _was_ that, anyhow? ) and Billy was just starting his fucking day in Scotland? Why the fuck was he was lying here on Elijah's couch with his cock making a tent in his boxers, listening to something that sounded like very quiet wrestling coming from Elijah's fucking bedroom?

Elijah had offered and Dom had been restless and Billy had said: " _If we don't want him to slip away from us, it might be a good idea, Dom._ "

Yeah. That was it.

 _This place is too fucking small for this shite,_ he thought, and heard Elijah, as if in agreement, moan "Yeah, oh fuck!"

 _Oh Jesus Fucking Christ,_ he thought. His right hand was not quite under his control, apparently, as it had stolen down the front of his boxers when he hadn't been paying attention to it. He pulled it out quickly, feeling obscurely guilty ( _Why the fuck should **I** feel guilty, **he's** the one shagging!_ ), and suddenly he was holding the phone in his right hand rather than his own cock.

He wasn't entirely sure if that was better or not. His hand was clenching just as hard around the phone as it had been around his erection.

He slid his left hand beneath the pillow under his head, just in case it should get any ideas.

His mind was yammering at him that this would be a good time to call Billy, and his hand clamped around the phone seemed to agree completely, but...

But there was some part of him that wanted none of that.

He knew what would happen if he called Billy. Certainly he did. Billy would talk him through this. Billy would keep Dom on the phone while Elijah finished with what he was doing in the bedroom, either fucking whomever that was or being fucked _by_ him...

Dom was standing, suddenly, phone still clenched in his hand so hard that his knuckles were aching.

He shouldn't, he should let this go. Let Elijah finish his business, let him get that fucking virginity and inexperience out of the way, let him, and then call Billy and get him here on the next fucking flight (okay, so probably not)... He shouldn't go in there. He had no right; he _knew_ he had no right.

There was a muffled thump from the bedroom, and the next thing he knew he was standing right in front of the bedroom door. Standing right there, and what had sounded like quiet wrestling from the couch sounded nothing bloody like it from here. It sounded like what it was, exactly like what it was, and the sounds of mingled moans coming from behind that door were just fucking breaking his heart, and how the hell was he supposed to just stand there and _take_ that?

Billy was going to be seriously pissed off at him.

Fuck Billy. Billy wasn't here, Billy wasn't listening to Elijah on the other side of that door, so fuck Billy, and fuck having no right. He loved Elijah, _loved_ him, and he couldn't fucking take this.

The door creaked open, very loudly, thank God, and all sound and movement stopped from inside the room. Dom didn't really want to see exactly what position he had compromised them in, he really didn't, but his left hand flipped the light switch up anyhow, and the room was flooded with hard yellow light that slapped at his eyes. He narrowed them and looked at the bed, because he knew damned well that he deserved the look Elijah was giving him, and he wasn't going to try to avoid it.

Elijah was dragging a sheet from the foot of the bed to cover them ( _Holy shite, I know that bloke! What the hell is his name?_ ), and Dom got a rather better look at both of them than his own peace of mind could afford, but it was also enough to display quite clearly that there was lube involved but no condom (nor was there one lying about that Dom could see) and that this had probably been more in the nature of groping and rubbing than actual fucking, as Elijah would never in a million years go further without one.

Dom thought he should probably be embarrassed and ashamed of himself, but he simply wasn't.

"Sorry," he lied (and couldn't keep his eyes from wandering over the uncovered bits of Elijah's skin, the tension in his arms as he held himself up, the flex of his shoulder blades beneath the smooth skin of his back, the sweat at his temples, which dampened the hair that curled around his face, and Elijah's eyes were narrowed as he returned Dom's regard silently). "Thought you were being mugged or something." He gestured with the phone, hoping it would distract them (him) from the fact that Dom was wearing nothing but boxers, which were quite obviously tented. "I was ready to call the coppers, mate."

"Dominic," Elijah hissed, voice like a razor.

 _You can't do that to him, Elijah_ , Dom thought, and felt sad and hurt and monstrously aroused at the same time. _You can't use that voice on him, but you can use it on me. Can't you see that?_

But of course, Elijah _couldn't_ see that. That was why the waiting. That was one of the reasons.

"Hey, Kieran," Dom said, remembering his name, finally. He looked a hell of a lot calmer than Elijah. He was, in fact, smirking a bit, and eyeing Dom's boxers, and yeah, suddenly he was very fucking glad he'd interrupted this. Very fucking glad, because this may have been relatively innocent, it _looked_ relatively innocent, but the look in Kieran's eyes was not. That look was blatant and practiced. Dom wanted to snarl a warning at him, and somehow did not.

"Dominic," Elijah repeated. "Get the fuck out. Now."

"Oh, right," Dom said. "Sorry."

He backed out and shut the door softly.

There was nothing to stop them from picking up where they'd left off. Nothing but knowing Dom was out here, awake, and that he could hear everything. He went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea as loudly as possible. He didn't know Kieran, but he _knew_ Elijah. He didn't think they would continue.

Five minutes later, the front door opened and slammed shut.

 _Bye, Kieran_ , he thought. He was a right bastard, all right. He'd own up to that. Didn't change the fact that he wasn't sorry. He might be sorry later, with Billy's 'you did what?' tone ringing in his ears (not that Billy would actually say that, he would never actually _say_ something like that, but Dom would hear it there anyhow, at the edges of whatever Billy actually did say), but he wasn't sorry right now. Not even a little.

"Dom," Elijah said from behind him, and he wasn't surprised.

He turned to face Elijah, who had slid on some old and threadbare sweats that revealed the tops of his hipbones (his unhelpful mind summoned up an image of Kieran's dark mouth against one of those hipbones, and he had to fight to keep a snarl off his face). Elijah's chest was a smooth, pale expanse of skin, and Dom's fingers itched and clenched to feel it, smoothsofthot, and he could taste it again, taste it as vividly as he had in New Zealand, in Billy's bathroom, and it was terrible not to know what Elijah's skin _really_ tasted like, it was fucking painful, and he did not know how much fucking longer he could take _not knowing_. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't stop. He could feel Elijah staring at him, and didn't want that to stop either.

The tension -- which had begun as anger -- was turning, twisting, changing between them. The air was dense with it, and Elijah wasn't stupid by any means. He wasn't inexperienced either, not really. Inexperienced with men, sure, but he'd probably had dozens of girls, and he had to know what this was, this want, and Dom didn't want to confuse him, but God, oh God, he could smell him, sweat and beer and sex musk, and he could almost taste Elijah, feel the texture of Elijah's skin on his tongue and his palms, and his hands wanted to fist and his chest was burning for air because he had forgotten that he needed to breathe, and he was hard, so hard.

Elijah sighed a little, drawing Dom's eyes up to his face, and oh. Oh.

Dom didn't want to confuse him, and he had never wanted that look on Elijah's face. Desire was there, yes, and he couldn't lie to himself and say he hadn't wanted that, but there was also guilt there, and of course Dom knew why. Guilt and pain. Oh.

"Tea?" Dom asked. It was the only thing he could think of that might distract them both, distance them both, and maybe ease that look on Elijah's face, that look that made Dom feel faintly ill and faintly angry and faintly desperate all at the same time. His tone wasn't anywhere near neutral or calm, and he knew it.

Elijah's eyes showed something aching and furious for a moment, and then veiled themselves carefully.

Dom was tired; Dom was so tired of this, and where the hell was Billy when Dom needed him?

How long had Elijah been acting for Dom's benefit? How long had he been not showing that? It hurt, it ached, but who the hell was Dom trying to kid? He had been acting for Elijah for a very long time.

It would almost be easy to stop. Easy. Just tell Elijah, tell him that Dom wanted him, that Dom and Billy wanted him. Tell him not to bring home Kieran with his sharp and jaded eyes. Tell him that he could be _theirs_ , that they could be _his_ , if he wanted that.

Elijah wanted Dom. That could be safely assumed from body language in the last two minutes alone. Elijah had wanted Billy, and Dom thought he still wanted Billy. But did Elijah want _them_? Did he understand it was possible to want _them_?

Maybe it would be easy to stop acting. There was heat between them; there was energy, right now, in this tiny kitchen. Maybe Dom could take advantage of that, and maybe Elijah wouldn't even object, in the state he was in (and Dom stole a look at that state, couldn't help it), but it wasn't fair to do that.

Elijah didn't know all the bits of this puzzle.

Elijah only knew that Dom wanted him, right now, in this tiny moment. He didn't know that Dom always wanted him, that it was a constant that accompanied him through days and nights without Billy, days and nights with his own hand and memories of Billy's hands, and fantasies of Elijah's hands.

Elijah didn't know about Billy either, didn't know how Billy had whispered to Dom, once, while Dom whimpered beneath him and tried to breathe around the pleas spilling from his lips, that Elijah would be crueler than Billy had ever been, Elijah would be vicious, Elijah was like a double-edged razor blade, the kind that fit into those antique brass razors from the 1950's, that Elijah didn't _have_ a dull side, that no matter how you tried to handle Elijah, he would cut you up. He didn't know that the image had been so sharp and perfectly compelling that Dom had come and taken Billy with him, with Elijah's name on their lips.

He didn't know how Dom and Billy fit like bits of one person somehow jerked into pieces, only whole when they were together. He didn't know that Elijah was an integral part of that, that completion for Dom and Billy already included Elijah.

Elijah didn't know that their idea of perfect sex, his and Billy's, involved leather and metal and pain and sweat and cursingbitingbeggingscreaminghurtingtwistingfightingtakinggiving... and sometimes a little blood.

And he didn't know that they wanted that from _Elijah_ , too.

Most importantly, Elijah didn't know that there were a thousand ways to fuck this up, a hundred thousand ways for it to end in pain and hurt and betrayal and jealousy for one or all of them.

And without Elijah knowing at least most of these things, Dom suspected that taking advantage of the heat and hurt in Elijah's eyes would just be one of the many ways to fuck this up beyond any possibility of redemption.

So he turned away. He turned back toward the kettle on the stove and began tugging a tea bag from the box with hands that shook like his Nan's did, palsied and weak and uncoordinated.

He wanted to be able to tell himself that the want in Elijah's eyes was probably nothing more than frustration at what Dom had interrupted, but he knew better than that. He knew Elijah looked at him. He knew it and Billy knew it. Elijah looked at him, Elijah looked at Billy. How did they make Elijah look at _them_?

That was harder to see, harder to know.

"Dom," Elijah said again, finally, and Dom was tempted to offer him tea again in response, the sarcasm method of self-defense. He resisted the urge. "Have you talked to Billy lately?"

Dom paused, trying to decide what that meant, exactly. Then he let it go, and felt his shoulders relax a little. Take it at face value, take it as Elijah missing a friend, and let all of the other possibilities just lie, for the moment, dormant. "Yeah," he said softly. "A couple of days ago. They're nearly finished with this run."

He heard Elijah pull out a chair and sit down at the table. "Have you thought more about... I mean... You have a script thing, right? You… you had talked about going back. Back to England."

Dom didn't turn to look. His heart was suddenly pounding. "I haven't brought it up yet, 'Lijah. Crowding you a bit, am I?"

And if Dom was, it was only his own stupid fault. Especially with tonight thrown in on top of whatever other problems Elijah might have with Dom. And Billy, oh fucking hell, Billy would just look at Dom with his eyes flat and bleak and say there was nothing they could do, and that look on Billy's face would be Dom's fault, too.

Elijah was at his elbow, suddenly, small, blunt fingers gripping Dom's forearm. "No," he said softly, and Dom turned helplessly to look at him. God, he was too beautiful to be real, and before he could stop it, he had an arm around Elijah's waist and his forehead resting on Elijah's shoulder, and Elijah had wound his arms around Dom's waist and sighed quietly into Dom's hair. "I found a house I like. Actually." He sounded nervous. Scared.

Dom didn't move. Elijah was warm and good in his arms, and if only Billy were here, if only Billy had his arms around Dom and around Elijah.

It was clear to him that he had been a difficult prick, months and years ago, in New Zealand. He had been, and if Billy had felt anything like this while Billy had waited and wanted Dom, then Billy must have been close to fucking losing it. Dom felt like he was hanging on by his fucking fingernails. And Billy...how could Billy do this _again_?

"I found a house," Elijah repeated. "And it's pretty big. And I thought, well, if you guys wanted... There are plenty of bedrooms. I mean... If you wouldn't mind having me around, all the time. Not that we'd all be there all the time. We all... with work... I thought..."

Breath that he hadn't been aware of holding gusted out of him, relief that was dizzying and sweet, and he raised his head to look at Elijah, and he almost said: _Yes, fucking yes, thank you, thank GOD!_ but instead he kissed Elijah softly, just the corner of Dom's lips touching the corner of Elijah's, and he pretended that didn't make him burn and lust and want.

Elijah smiled, but it looked shaky on his face, like he was having trouble holding it there. His cheeks were faintly pink, and he just looked so fucking desperate it made Dom ache. "I'd miss you," he said. Then he looked startled and the flush deepened. "Both of you."

 _Both of us, yes_ , he thought, but didn't say anything.

~~

"Oi?" Billy answered. It normally cracked him up, Billy answering the phone like that, but this time he only felt a surge of desperate longing. Billy sounded bright and alert.

"Bill?" he asked, although he knew it was Billy, because he wasn't sure what he actually wanted to say.

"Dominic," Billy said, and there was another burst of that longing at hearing Billy say his name, his full name, which only Billy used with any regularity. Billy sounded pleased. Dom could hear him smiling. Usually hearing a smile in Billy's voice was enough to make Dom smile, too.

He didn't smile.

"I did something," Dom said, and he knew he was being vague, knew it was deliberate in some way, and he hated feeling like this, hated feeling torn between telling Billy the truth and letting it lie, letting it go, pretending it hadn't happened. It was painful to think about the whole thing, and he didn't want to anymore. He wanted to drink about six beers and fall into the stupor of sleep, dreamless and thoughtless.

Billy's voice was sharp. "Are you All right, Dom?" Pause, then ( _And the man thought his instincts weren't trustworthy_ , Dom thought, feeling the perilous and inappropriate desire to laugh): "Is Elijah All right?"

Dom stifled the urge to laugh, and managed a semi-articulate answer. "No, not really. Not really either of us."

Billy said nothing for long moments, and Dom could hear him breathing, tightly controlled, measured, the way Billy breathed when he woke up at night, woke up from dreams that he never spoke of, and didn't want to wake Dom. "Tell me," he said finally, and Dom wasn't crazy about the way Billy's voice sounded. Rigid... but brittle.

"He brought someone home with him, tonight. Earlier," Dom said, and felt his throat locking up, wanting to refuse to continue. "I... I think maybe I went a bit mad."

He paused, half waiting for Billy to demand something, to chastise or to sigh or maybe just to freeze him to death with long-distance silence. Instead, Billy said: "It's all right, Dom," very quiet, very gentle. "Just settle down."

Then it was coming, all in a rush. Every stupid thought, every helpless reaction, all of it, spilling out from between Dom's lips almost desperately -- low-voiced because Elijah was just in the next room -- but still feeling like shouts, like words were tearing their way out of Dom's throat, and he just wanted to get it out, because it was eating him alive, chewing on his guts like some kind of voracious parasite, and he should have known better than to think Billy wouldn't understand.

Billy had already done this once. Of course he would understand.

He was breathing heavily when he finished, and his throat felt scraped raw and tender. He felt a lot like it did after Billy finished with him, when Billy was in one of his more playful moods, in fact, and suddenly Dom was grinning, a little amazed to find he could still do so. He flopped back onto the couch, phone to his ear, and just reveled in the fact that he no longer felt like he was being crushed to death under the weight of it.

Billy was quiet for a while, but his breathing was normal, not that rigidly controlled inhale, exhale, repeat that always made Dom feel like a wild animal scenting fire on the wind.

"You mad, Bill?" Dom asked finally, though he didn't really think Billy was mad. He was pretty sure Billy was just thinking, digesting information, and forming his careful and deliberate conclusions. Dom wished Billy was here. He liked to watch this, liked to watch Billy think, liked the look of concentration, the focus (oddly similar to the way he looked in bed), and maybe that was why Dom liked it, because he could look at it and think about it and admire it when Billy was thinking, whereas in bed, Dom's mind was pretty much on auto-pilot, and thinking was strictly secondary to feeling and breathing), liked the way Billy's eyes darkened when he was thinking hard, liked the way it made his normally open, laughing face so serious and dangerous.

Billy laughed. It sounded rueful. "I once thought about beating Orlando with his own bow," he confessed, a little sheepish.

Dom snorted surprised laughter, and Billy laughed, too. And good, this was good. This was better than almost anything. Almost.

"I'm not mad," Billy said, though it wasn't really necessary to say it now. "It maybe wasn't the best possible thing to do in the situation, but I can't blame you, Dom. Hell, there's a good bit of me that wants to cheer."

"I couldn't," Dom said simply. It was a little easier to live with now, which was good, since it was simple fact, inescapable. "Couldn't let him, Bill. Couldn't fucking stand it, couldn't breath, couldn't think. I just..."

"Yeah," Billy said, and he sighed. "I know, Dom. 'S'All right."

"If he brings someone else," Dom began, but he stopped, because he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say about that.

"I don't think he will," Billy said. "Elijah isn't stupid, and you'll forgive me for saying, Dom, you aren't exactly the most subtle bloke. I think he understands that you want him, Dom. I think he understands that you were jealous. Whatever else he thinks about the situation, he won't put you in that position again."

"Which isn't to say he won't do it," Dom murmured. "He just won't do it here." He closed his eyes, some sort of cross between relief and horror crouching in his chest. "I've chased him out of his own home."

Billy didn't deny it, but he didn't dwell on it either. "I'm not sure what the right thing to do is, anymore, Dom," he said softly.

"I need to get out of here for a while. I can't... I'm past the point where I feel like I have any sort of fucking self-control, Billy." He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "He wants us... he's found a house. He wants us to move in with him. Here."

Billy's breath was a slow, sighing exhale.

"I know you don't want to leave Scotland," Dom murmured, studying the bleak grey behind his eyelids. "But everything he has is here, Billy. He's never going to want to leave here."

"Aye," Billy said, and more quickly than Dom had expected. "I'll come."

"You...?" Dom said stupidly, feeling dizzy and relieved at once.

"Aye," Billy said again. "I've been thinking on it for a while, actually. And it isn't as if I'll never be in Scotland. I can stay with Margaret when I'm in Glasgow. She'll be thrilled, actually. I'll call later on and talk to Elijah." He went quiet for a moment, and his voice was softer when he continued. "It's time to find out, I think. Time for us to put Elijah between us and see if that's where he wants to be. Time to move on, if it isn't."

Dom closed his eyes.

"But come see me first, Dom. Come see me for a while, help me pack up the place. Don't you have a gig in London soon anyhow?"

"Yeah," Dom said. His chest felt strangely hollow. "Yeah. Spivs."

"Get away from L. A. for a while, Dom. Give Elijah some space. Come home."

##  _GLASGOW_

"Phantom limb?" Billy asked, when they were both sweaty and exhausted and grinning in Billy's bed.

"He's fine. He says he's on sabbatical," Dom replied languidly. He was completely relaxed, gentled into a kind of waiting peace. "When do you leave for the film festival circuit?"

"Soon enough," Billy muttered, and leaned down to swipe at Dom's chest with his tongue, fingertips skating deliciously lightly along the planes of Dom's belly. "Do you want to cook, or shall I?"

Dom stretched, feeling the pull around wrists and ankles, hearing the creak of leather. He grinned. "You'll have to let me up if you want me to do it," he pointed out.

"True," Billy said thoughtfully, arching a wicked brow. "When do you have to be back on the set?"

"Monday at half nine."

"You can cook tomorrow."

##  _LONDON_

"Where are you?" Dom demanded, holding his free hand up and out of the way of the wardrobe tech who was doing something inexplicable to the front of Dom's trousers.

"L. A. again," Elijah said, shouting a bit to be heard over whatever clamoring noise was going on in the background. "Did you get the papers I faxed you?"

"Already sent 'em back," Dom replied, and winced as the tech jerked at his crotch. "Is it ours yet?"

"Next week!" Elijah crowed, jubilant. "When are you going to fucking get here to see it? It's fucking badass, Sblom. Further from the beach than I'd really like, but the fucking view is killer. And Billy's room has doors out onto this little sideyard, it'll be perfect for his Kung Fu crap. It's all walled off and private."

Dom laughed at Elijah's obvious delight. He could feel the echo of it in his own chest, even though he hadn't actually seen anything but the exterior of the house and photos of the inside. "You've already designated rooms? How very overbearing of you, Elwood!"

Elijah sniffed into the phone. "I know you guys," he said haughtily. "I know what you like. Billy got the room with the atmosphere and the sideyard access, you got the room with the odd shape and the view -- I might have to do the yoga thing in there with you, the _view_ , Dommie, I shit you not! -- and I got the room with the lock on the door, to curtail your sock-drawer pissing and pornographic wall-papering ways."

Dom snorted. "Nothing will stop me, Elwood. I will find a way."

"I know," Elijah chuckled. "Cunt. I've gotta go, Dom, I've gotta film in five."

"Yeah, I'm on soon as this bloke has finished with stuffing my jock," Dom agreed, and the tech glanced up and gave Dom a toothy grin.

"I'm sending you a furniture link, so don't forget to check your email. I thought I should consult you and Billy on the kitchen table, for sturdiness factor."

"Hardy fucking har, 'Lijah, you comic fucking genius, you."

"Ta, luv," Elijah mocked, snickering, and rang off.

##  _LOS ANGELES_

"Soon," Billy said, and it almost sounded idle, except for the way his lips curled gently and his eyes gleamed. "One way or the other, it'll be soon."

"I don't know how you can always be so certain of everything." Dom wanted to take it back almost as soon as he'd said it. He hated the fact that his own tone of voice was so... waspish.

"I'm not certain," Billy said mildly, voice philosophical and calm and even. It was enough to make Dom consider homicide as a suitable outlet for frustration. After all, there was a reason why they called it pent-up aggression, wasn't there? The fact that Billy could treat the whole thing in such a matter-of-fact way was just... well, it verged on fucking offensive.

The slow burn in Dom's belly wasn't helping either.

It wasn't just Elijah causing him sexual tension these days. He and Billy had hardly seen each other in months, and the fact that they were sitting side by side in a scummy L. A. bar instead of fucking like crazed rabbits on pheromones wasn't sitting particularly well with him. It only made it worse that they'd spent a good deal of that time nominally in the same country, but unable to do more than catch a beer together (and several memorable loo experiences) for half an hour here or there because of the way their schedules most decidedly did _not_ mesh.

The fact that Billy looked like butter wouldn't melt in his pretty little mouth didn't help either. Fucking bastard. _Calm_ fucking bastard. Control freak.

Dom was smoldering, and Billy was putting up a solidly convincing front of not noticing. The fact that Dom was completely and utterly sure that a convincing front was all it was didn't make it any less annoying.

Billy eyed him sideways, bottle twirling idly in one hand. His eyes were bright with unconcealed amusement.

Smacking him, Dom thought, would probably be a somewhat less permanent alternative to homicide. Besides which, it was an occasionally effective means of starting off something that would likely end up intensely, creatively painful and ultimately very satisfying. Hopefully with a bed involved, but Dom wasn't that picky. He eyed the door to the loo, grinning slightly.

Billy never objected to being on the receiving end of a little pain and violence; he usually revisited whatever Dom delivered back on him three or four times over, and he seemed to think it was a fair trade. And it was tempting. It would probably crack Billy's formidable control, if only for a moment. It wouldn't show, much, but Dom would see it. He was close enough, and he knew what to look for.

If anything, Billy was just looking more amused. Dom sneered a little, lip curling. Billy smiled, sweet and simple, and disarmed all thoughts of irritation with four words.

"I've missed you, Dom."

"I've missed you, too," Dom replied, and shifted uncomfortably on his barstool. It was more painfully accurate than Dom liked to really think about. Physically and otherwise. "Why the fuck are we even here?" He kicked at the suitcases stacked beside his barstool.

Billy shrugged. "You were the one that told Elijah we'd meet him here," he pointed out.

Somewhere deeper in the bar, someone put a quarter in the jukebox. The result was Duran Duran.

"We had an hour before we had to be here," Dom sulked, and considered putting his hands over his ears.

"An hour, Dominic," Billy said quietly (and Dom's attention swung toward him at Billy's tone, like Dom was a lodestone and Billy was magnetic north, and Billy was looking at him just as Dom had known he would be, hunger, want, avarice, and the air around the two of them seemed to crackle in Dom's ears with the promise of things violent and frenzied and wonderful), "just wouldn't have been long enough."

"Yeah," Dom said, certain Billy was right. An hour, no, they would've had to find a hotel, and there was no way they would have left anytime that night. Elijah would have eventually realized they weren't going to show, and would have started calling their mobiles (Dom smiled faintly at the idea of what sort of messages Elijah would leave in those circumstances), one right after the other, until one of them finally gave in and answered. "Yeah, all right. Good point. I still think he could've just posted the new keys to us." Except that he understood completely why Elijah hadn't. Sending house keys through the post was just asking for trouble. Although it wouldn't be an issue if Elijah hadn't lost his fucking house keys to begin with. Stupid tosser.

Billy continued to look at Dom for long moments, and Dom could never quite look away from Billy looking at _him_ like that. Captivated.

And really, it was ridiculous how happy it made him, to feel like this again. It was ridiculous that it made him content, even comfortable, as his cock hardened in his jeans in a manner that was distinctly _uncomfortable_.

Billy smiled slightly, giving Dom the distinct impression that he was doing that mind-reading thing again. "I'll make it up to you," he said, eyes going sly and calculating. "It'll be worth the wait. You know it will."

Of course it would. It always was.

Then that look slid off of Billy's face, dismissed. Dom was always a little amazed to see Billy _do_ that, to see how firm Bill's control was, because when Billy let go -- on top, of course, that was the only way Billy ever let go -- he was amazing, _it_ was amazing. It was a frantic, impossible blur of force and fierce passion and need -- the man was a fucking god -- and reigning that in always seemed like an unimaginable thing to Dom. It was something he was well aware that _he_ would never be capable of. Once Dom was wound up, there was nothing to do but go forward until it ran its course. Billy grinned amiably. "Tell me what you've been doing. Tell me about your movie."

And just like that, they were laughing at Dom's antics on-set, Elijah's close-encounter with rabid teenybopper fans in New York while filming Spotless Mind, and Russell Crowe's abysmal fashion sense (described by Billy in terms so vivid Dom thought he might pass out from laughing).

They'd moved on to what Orli would be sporting, fashion-wise, in Troy when Elijah showed up. Dom was arguing for togas, which Billy insisted were too Roman, and besides that, he'd trade Elijah's entire CD collection to see Orli and Bean in loin cloths (Elijah squawked an indignant protest at this pronouncement).

"You know you want to see it, too, 'Lijah," Billy grinned, and wrapped Elijah in a one-armed hug. "Orlando being too pretty to be a man, and all."

"Hey!" Elijah objected, but he was grinning too. "No fair using that against me, fucker. I was drunk." He hugged Billy back fiercely, smile so wide Dom thought the top of his head was going to slide off. "It's so good to fucking see you, Bill." He grabbed the collar of Billy's black button-up and reeled Billy in close.

For a moment, Dom was relatively sure Elijah was going to lay one on Billy. From the startled look on Billy's face, it looked like he thought the same thing. Instead, Elijah just pushed his face up close to Billy's and said: "We seriously are going shopping for another shirt, Billy."

Dom's belly, tight with some kind of desperate anticipation, relaxed somewhat. He couldn't tell if he was disappointed or relieved.

Billy laughed, nothing but amusement visible in his face, but Dom could practically _feel_ the tension coming off of him. How the hell was Elijah not _feeling_ that? "I like this shirt," Billy defended, and pushed Elijah gently away, making a show out of smoothing his collar. "It's comfortable."

"It's boring," Elijah declared. "And you wear it everywhere. You know your fangirls have taken to calling it The One Shirt, don't you?"

Dom snorted (making a mental note to look on the internet and see if that was true), and Elijah grinned broadly at Billy's expression of mock-outrage.

"I wear other shirts!"

"Yeah," Dom agreed, managing not to laugh somehow. "Even The One Shirt wants laundering on occasion. Besides, he's got that other one. The blue stripy one he likes."

"Hideous, by the way," Elijah interjected.

"Oi!" Billy objected, looking aggrieved. "It could be worse. It could be a truly ugly rumpled brown jacket."

"I resent that, Mister Boyd, the man with only two shirts." Elijah leaned casually over Billy's legs, elbows on the bar, and flagged down the bartender. Dom met Billy's gaze over Elijah's back. Billy looked pointedly at Elijah's arse and mimed giving him a swat.

"I'll pay you a hundred quid," Dom mouthed silently, grinning, and Billy barely hesitated.

It was loud enough to actually _sound_ painful to Dom, and avoiding laughter was out of the question.

He'd rather expected Elijah to either squawk with surprise -- there was something ridiculously endearing about Elijah's little squawking sounds of surprise and outrage -- or shrill indignant curses. Instead, Elijah turned calmly and gave Billy a knowing smile. "I knew you'd be all over my ass the moment you got the chance, Boyd."

Dom choked helplessly, laughing and faintly horrified. Billy laughed so hard that Dom wondered at his ability to breathe through it, and eventually managed to gasp out: "Don't tempt me, Frodo!" delivering Gandalf's line with aplomb and flair, in spite of the chuckling.

"Great," Dom mocked. "The little bugger is already insufferable, now you've gone and given him arse delusions of grandeur." It probably would've been more effective if he could've stopped snickering.

"Ha!" Elijah snorted, and leaned confidentially toward Billy. "Like it's my fault. I've seen him looking; don't let him fool you. He's felt the draw of the One Arse." All of that delivered with Frodo's quiet, desperate intensity, and Dom dissolved into near hysterics. Elijah's giggling was softer and higher, but nearly as helpless.

"That's right," Billy gasped. "All the Dom Lord needs is the One Arse to cover all the lands in a second darkness!"

"No more," Dom begged, flailing weakly at the two of them. He thought he might throw up.

Elijah grinned evilly, and pointed an accusing finger at Billy. "Your lust for the power of the One Arse will destroy you, Billomir," he intoned darkly, and then threw back half the contents of Billy's glass, since the bartender hadn't yet returned with Elijah's beer. Billy's eyes were damp with tears of mirth, and Dom was pretty sure he was going to throw up, now, his belly and sides aching. Elijah's shoulders were shaking, and Billy was wiping at his eyes, still chortling.

It was too good, too perfect; the three of them together like this, their laughter mingling comfortably. It struck Dom suddenly that there was going to be more of this. A _lot_ more, with the three of them living in the same house. This was going to be daily, this was going to be continuous, in spite of the times when one or more of them were off filming.

This wasn't going to be stolen weekends in Mexico while Billy filmed, or similar ones in New York, freezing their arses off just to spend the evenings watching Elijah dance and wanting him, and feeling both guilty and grateful when he left with them instead of one of the many other interested parties, even though it wasn't _with_ them, not really (and Dom's mind always added _not yet_ , because thinking any other way really _would_ make him insane).

This was going to be real. This was going to be their lives, and Elijah had chosen this. It was immaterial that technically, they'd all been living in the house nominally together for the last several months. They'd rarely been there, all three at the same time. And it had felt like it had felt at the premieres, sort of. It had felt like visits, temporary hiatus' in their schedules. Breaks. Not home. It hadn't felt like home.

But it was about to. They were all about to go home. And none of them had anywhere to be for the next couple of months, at least.

Billy had wanted it, and God knew Dom had wanted it, too, but _Elijah_ had chosen it, eyes wide open.

Elijah wanted this. Elijah wanted _them_. Them, together. All three of them.

Dom was sure he was right. Mind and gut insisted on it. He could almost taste it, and he wondered how long it had been like this. Had it happened sometime while both he and Billy were in the U. K., or sometime before that, and Dom just hadn't seen it?

Because he was different. Elijah was different.

He even understood how that could be. He could see it so clearly, like he was suddenly looking at the whole problem at once for the first time. Like he'd only ever seen it in two dimensions before.

Yes. Exactly like that.

It made sense. It made sense that he wouldn't be sure, that he couldn't be sure, until _Elijah_ was sure. Until Elijah understood that it was both of them, not one of them, not either of them, but _both_.

"Billomir," Elijah snickered, and took another drink of Billy's beer. Billy snorted, but was already opening his arms for Elijah when Elijah stepped toward him, and Dom watched Elijah push his face into Billy's shoulder and inhale deeply, his body curled intimately into Billy's body. Unreserved.

Different. Elijah was different, Elijah was comfortable with what he felt for Billy, which was something that he'd never allowed himself to be.

What had happened? What had Elijah been doing?

Dom met Billy's eyes. The invitation there was clear enough, and he joined them. He fit easily, Elijah turning slightly and sliding an arm around Dom's waist.

"I missed you guys," Elijah whispered, and then he was pressing his face against Dom's chest, burrowing, nearly nuzzling "So fucking much."

"Missed you, too, Elwood," Dom murmured, but he was looking at Billy over the top of Elijah's head, silently questioning.

And for once, Billy didn't look like he knew the answer.

~~

Elijah'd gone to pull his car round, and Dom and Billy were standing in front of the pub, waiting.

"He's different," Dom said. He glanced sideways at Billy, and saw Billy's slight frown with satisfaction. That was Billy's thinking frown. It meant he was trying to see the situation from all angles. "He's really different."

"Aye," Billy said, and continued frowning.

"Whatever he did while we were gone, it changed the way he looks at things. It changed the way he looks at us."

Billy said nothing. The thoughtful frown had deepened.

"Say something."

Billy gave him a long look, and Dom could see things moving behind Billy's eyes, could see Billy trying to arrange things into order in his mind. "I can't say anything yet, Dom. You're right that he's different. It's clear that he's reconciled _something_. He's more comfortable, more at ease, than he's been for a long time."

 _Yes_ , Dom thought, a little thrill of anticipation zinging through him to settle with gentle warmth at his groin. _Yes, fuck yes_!

"I wonder if he's seeing someone," Billy murmured, almost to himself.

The thought hadn't occurred to Dom, and it made him tense, made him want to grind his teeth. "He'd have said something," Dom muttered, but he knew that wasn't necessarily true. Because Elijah was aware of the tension that had existed between himself and Dom before Dom had left L. A. So he might not have. If he'd thought that it would hurt Dom, he wouldn't have. Fuck.

Billy was likely thinking much the same thing, but he didn't say it. Dom was grateful.

On the heels of that, Dom thought: _He could be seeing a bloke_.

The image of Elijah and Kieran together flared into life behind his eyelids, alive and in vibrant, writhing color, and Dom could feel himself snarling.

Billy's hand coiled around his forearm, gentle but firm, drawing Dom's attention. "Don't assume anything yet," Billy said, catching Dom's eyes and holding them. "I can see you working yourself up. Don't do that. It's pointless. We'll find out the lay of things soon enough. We've got time, Dom."

"It's taken too much fucking time already," Dom sighed, but some of the tension was leeching out of his shoulders already. Just being with Billy made it a little easier. Just having Billy there to steady him, or something. And the way Elijah had _looked_ at them. The way he'd curved himself into Billy's chest, the way he'd practically fucking nuzzled Dom.

Even if maybe he _was_ seeing someone (else), it was telling.

Because Elijah still thought he couldn't have _them_. Right. So even if he _was_ seeing someone, it didn't necessarily change the way Elijah felt about them.

But he couldn't help but think about Franka, and Elijah's roller coaster fears. He couldn't help but think about Elijah's fierce eyes, the determination in his voice, when he'd said he didn't want that. He didn't want to see the end before he got on the ride.

Would he have even got on the ride with someone (else), if he hadn't felt that the potential was there for it to be endless?

Because Elijah was constant. Elijah was not afraid to commit. Elijah was true to what he felt, what he _believed_ , perhaps more than anyone else Dom knew.

Elijah wasn't the sort to fuck around. He was either in or he was out.

He looked at Billy, and saw the same understanding reflected back at him.

Billy was right, of course. Things were going to come to a head soon. They had to. The three of them actually existing in the same space for any length of time would coerce some kind of denouement. It was inevitable. And there were no guarantees on _how_ it would end.

Elijah drew up to the curb in his mother's sedan, and Dom could see him leaning across the front seat to open the passenger side door. The thought of sitting that close to Elijah was both alluring and unsettling. "You take the front," Dom muttered, and didn't look into Billy's face to see his surprise.

Billy didn't ask; he ducked his head into the car to tell Elijah to pop the trunk. Dom watched them grin at one another, and allowed the sight to tug his lips up as well.

"Get your stinking duffel, Dom," Billy growled, nudging distastefully at the duffel with his toe.

"Hurry up," Elijah shouted, his head poking up out of the driver's side window. "Hey, Orli's going to be in town in a couple of weeks, and Viggo, and maybe Liv, too, but I don't know for sure 'cuz I keep getting her voicemail when I call. We should do something!"

Dom looked at Billy and grinned at Elijah's enthusiasm.

"Like what?" Billy asked, making his way around to the passenger seat. Dom slid in behind Elijah and promptly shoved his knees into the back of the driver's seat, prompting Elijah to snake an arm behind the seat and thwap at Dom's legs.

"Quit it, assbandit," Elijah snarled, and Billy guffawed from the front seat. "I don't know. Surf? Barbeque?"

"Both?" Dom suggested.

"Rock on, dude," Elijah beamed at Dom in the rearview.

Dom rolled his eyes. "We're going to have to recondition him to proper English, I see," he told Billy.

Billy grinned over his shoulder at Dom. "We'll manage."

Yeah. Dom hoped so.


	4. Memento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fourth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is an aside to the main story that was written as part of a challenge (I no longer remember which one). I have several of these side stories, and when I started uploading I decided I'd fit them in as closely as I could to where they began. If you don't give a rat's ass about the side stories, only read the chapters that start with a "C" and you should be good. =)

Viggo developed those first few rolls of film about three weeks after Weathertop and discovered an oddity. He didn't even notice it the first few times he sorted through the glossy sheaves.

They were all so interesting.

It was on his first full day off -- nearly a month into the shoot -- that he finally noticed. He was sitting on the floor of his living room with the photographs spread out around him, a cup of rocketfuel (Exene's pet turn of phrase for the mix of caffeine and alcohol that resulted when he dumped brandy into his coffee) at his elbow, just letting his eyes roam over the results of his photographic voyeurism.

He noticed it because of the profiles.

He had shots of all of them in profile, looking away from the camera, unaware of it, their attention occupied by something or someone else. There was one of Elijah -- holding a Pop-tart and talking to Phillipa, lips curled into a smile, but eyes painfully wide and shimmering with Frodo's depthless innocence -- an interesting dissonance reflected in Elijah-as-Frodo, wearing Elijah's smile while Frodo looked out of his eyes.

Viggo thought, seeing it, that Elijah was more of a method actor than he knew, and it made him like Elijah more than their short acquaintance could account for. Sorting through the rest of the shots of Elijah yielded similar results in nearly every one. All the shots of Elijah on set, no matter what he was doing, held traces of Frodo. The contrast was even clearer once he found some photos of Elijah away from the set, and was able to compare the way his face looked, his expressions, the set of his jaw.

Elijah carried Frodo from the minute he arrived on set up to the minute he left it, every day. But once away, he put Frodo away like an heirloom, wound up in mothballs and felt, both to protect Frodo, and to distance him.

Viggo had seen it before, but he found it interesting to find it in Elijah, who was so damned young, then, to have developed such a talent.

It was a talent that Viggo had never mastered. He knew when he first spoke to Peter on the phone that if he agreed, he would be carrying Aragorn on his back like a fallen soldier for the entire length of the shoot. And he was aware of how heavy that extra weight would become, by the end.

Billy was virtually the diametric opposite of Elijah. Viggo suspected Billy might be the most compartmentalized person he had ever met. He didn't appear to need the constant presence of his character in his mind the way Elijah did, and he certainly didn't carry Pippin on his back, as Viggo carried Aragorn. Instead, it was like Billy tucked Pippin into a pocket, accessible at will. Viggo had several pictures of Billy, some facing the camera, some in profile, in which he could clearly see Billy's age in his eyes, his experience. Viggo found a few of these pictures genuinely eerie, the sort of thing that sent chill bumps crawling up his bare forearms and made him gulp from his coffee cup without realizing it until he'd already developed a healthy buzz.

Billy's eyes in Pippin's face brimmed with understanding that Pippin, with his earnest heart, should never have had.

Later, he would look for that on film as well, and he would never find it. On film, Billy was Pippin, and only Pippin showed in his eyes. He would be impressed, almost against his will.

Billy required neither method nor skill for his acting, though he certainly had skill, and more than a little. Billy's acting was pure talent, a remarkably powerful _gift_ , and Viggo didn't use that word lightly.

Sean was different from them both, maybe because Sean was so open anyway, so _like_ Sam, that who he was just radiated off of him, unfettered and unconcealed. He didn't have to look for bits of Sam in Sean, or vice versa. They were so commingled, so much of the one existed in the other, that it was pointless. And Viggo didn't really know whether or not that counted as method acting or not.

But Dom was different from anyone, and Viggo shuffled through the photos several times, understanding that something was different without being sure what it was. On the fourth or fifth pass, he thought _No profile shots,_ , and another pass through them confirmed it. In every photograph Viggo had taken, Dom was facing the camera full on, beaming and preening and posing.

And every picture was all Dom, no Merry at all, even in the wig and the prosthetic belly and the feet. In every single one, Dom was completely aware of the camera, aware of Viggo. Not a single one was genuine.

Viggo knew immediately that it wasn't meant to be a challenge. Quite the contrary, in fact: it was clearly some kind of defensive instinct, protective, like the camouflage some frogs and lizards and bugs employed, and probably just as unwittingly utilized.

He knew it wasn't meant as a challenge, but the voyeuristic part of him (the part, perhaps, that all the other parts ultimately stemmed from) couldn't help but take it as one.

**

 _"I need something," Dom says as soon as Viggo answers the phone. Viggo hasn't even said hello yet. He is still thinking about it._

 _Viggo blinks at the phone, and in spite of the fact that he knows it's Dom, recognizes his voice, for a moment he can't quite figure out who it could be, because Dom sounds odd. Uncertain._

 _"Okay," Viggo says, because he's sure that if it's important enough for Dom to call and ask him like this, it's important enough for Viggo to agree to without knowing what it is. Especially with the way Dom sounds._

 _There are several seconds of silence, punctuated by Dom breathing, which also sounds funny. A little uneven. Viggo frowns, faintly worried._

 _"Can I come over, Vig?" Dom asks abruptly, an odd, staccato burst of sound interrupting the quavery silence. Then: "I mean, I know you just got back to town, and if you're busy, it's okay. I can come another time, or maybe we could meet somewhere, or if it's easier you could come here, unless you're too busy…"_

 _Dom sounds so disappointed and dismayed -- which is a little funny, since Viggo hasn't told him not to come -- that Viggo doesn't have the heart to let him finish uninviting himself._

 _"I'm not doing anything important," he says. Out of nowhere, he wonders what Exene is doing. He hasn't seen her in a while. It occurs to him that Dom makes him think of Exene. The two of them are oddly similar._

 _Rock stars._

 _He smiles a little at the thought._

 _On the other end of the phone, Dom isn't talking, just breathing. Viggo isn't sure what he's waiting for._

 _"Come on over," he says. "We'll catch up."_

 _"I… I need something," Dom repeats, as if he thinks maybe Viggo had forgotten that from the beginning of the conversation. His tone is faintly guilty, now, a little apologetic, as though he feels bad that this isn't a social call._

 _"I know," Viggo says placidly. "It's okay."_

 _"Okay," Dom agrees, though he doesn't sound particularly reassured._

 _"Bring beer," Viggo offers, because he thinks Dom might feel better if there is an actual purpose to the visit, other than whatever it is Dom wants._

 _"Right," Dom says, and he does sound a little steadier, like he might be smiling a little. "See you in a bit."_

 _"Okay," Viggo says, and hangs up the phone._

 _He takes a look around musingly. If it had been anyone else, Viggo would have at least considered picking up the place. As it is, he doesn't think Dom will mind a bit of clutter._

**

Of course, Dom didn't mug every second. Viggo had seen him serious and honest dozens of times. He couldn't put into words exactly what it was he wanted that only the camera could give him.

He sometimes thought it was something as simple as time to look.

Dom was so mercurial, prone to constant motion and emotion. He was hard to study, to understand, even when he was sitting right there in front of you. If you watched him for fifteen minutes, his expression changed three hundred times.

Capturing that with the lens was relatively easy. It didn't take any time at all to compile a whole catalogue of Dominic Monaghan's expressions, from the best to the worst, joy to fury.

In every one of them, though, Dom was looking at the camera, turning to look at the camera, or turning away from the camera (usually accompanied by a rude gesture). There was nothing unguarded in any of them.

At some point it became a kind of game.

Viggo wasn't sure when, exactly. He thought it pretty likely that Dom had been playing it long before Viggo had.

His camera became a constant presence, and Dom took immense (and Viggo occasionally thought slightly sadistic) joy in thwarting Viggo's attempts.

"Will you stop bloody stalking me with that thing?" Dom demanded once, drunk and belligerent. "What the fuck are you trying to do, anyhow?"

Viggo thought how odd it was that Dom was completely in love with any camera he knew was there, would mug and pose endlessly and never get tired of it, but he got downright pissy if you sprang one on him enough times.

"Just catch you," Viggo said, and Dom screwed his face up a little at that, a cross between a sneer and a frown.

"What the bloody hell for?"

Viggo didn't really have a good answer to that, however, and just shook his head. He didn't really know.

Eventually, Viggo had quite a few shots of aggravated Dom in his collection as well as endless shots of grinning and posing Dom.

Even so, however aggravated Dom got about the photographic stalking, he hadn't ever been taken unawares.

**

 _If anything, Dom seems even more agitated in person. He practically vibrates, standing on Viggo's front step. Viggo thinks that if he listens hard enough, he might be able to hear the whirr of Dom's brain buzzing along at supersonic speeds._

 _He steps aside so Dom can come in, and decides it would be prudent to take the beer away from him before he drops it and breaks it._

 _He doesn't say anything as he takes the cardboard caddy full of clinking, green-tinged bottles into the kitchen and shoves things out of the way in the fridge, making room. He actually thinks that if he says anything out loud, Dom might bolt. Dom has always been a bit high-strung, it's true, but this is altogether different._

 __He seems almost scared _, Viggo thinks as he stands in the archway between living room and kitchen and watches Dom pace the length of the runner in front of the entertainment center. Eight steps, turn, hands twisting and fidgeting in front of him, eight steps, turn, head swiveling in short, choppy bursts of motion as he looks at this and that, eyes refusing to fix on anything, shoulders bunched with tension._

 _He decides that plying Dom with beer might help, and returns to the kitchen to retrieve a pair of bottles._

 _Dom, however, barely sips at his before setting it down on the coffee table. He seems to know he's acting oddly, because he sits down, shifts, glances at Viggo, and then visibly forces himself to sit still. Except for his hands, which continue to shift in nervous motion, twisting uncertainly at something he is holding._

 _Okay._

 _Viggo slides Dom's beer further down the table -- he doesn't seem to want it at the moment anyway -- and sits down in front of him, ass on the coffee table. There have been worse things on it. He catches Dom's fluttering-bird hands between both of his and holds them loosely. Dom doesn't resist; in fact, his hands relax and go still for long moments, and then they both turn upward, palms to the ceiling, within the loose cage of Viggo's hands. And now Viggo can see what he is holding._

 _And it seems to be a collar._

 _It makes him think of Exene again -- consummate punk rocker that she is -- but he's fairly sure that this isn't quite the same as Exene's stage get-up._

 _He takes a good look at it -- black leather, two inches wide, probably professionally made, judging by the craftsmanship, with a shiny steel D shaped ring attached slightly off-center -- then takes a good look at Dom's face._

**

"Why _do_ you do that," Dom asked, a bit drunk again, but sans the belligerence of the time previous. "You don't do it to anyone else."

Viggo had just managed to photograph Dom with his tongue poking out, delivering a cocky two-finger salute with each hand. He was fairly sure he'd also gotten about half of Billy's grinning face in the shot, just as he had been attempting to dodge out of it. The intent had been to get the two of them talking. Billy had been grinning, and Dom had looked gently bemused, a soft expression that Viggo rather liked. It had not been one of his better attempts.

"I just find it interesting," Viggo answered, completely honest. "You're strange. You're so aware of the camera."

"I worked in television, Vig," Dom said, as though that explained everything. He leaned back in his chair then, folding his hands behind his head, the whole thing a pose, indolent and self-aware.

Viggo snapped a picture, because clearly Dom wanted him to, and Viggo didn't like to disappoint if he could help it. When he lowered the camera from his face, Dom's expression was a bit more earnest than the pose had suggested. It was more the look Viggo had been trying to get on film, without the part where Dom was aware of him doing it, of course.

Maybe Dom's work on television _did_ explain some of that camera awareness. Maybe. Viggo wasn't entirely convinced.

"I want a real photo of you," Viggo said, which was basically true. He didn't understand exactly why, but that sort of thing never bothered him unduly. It was in his nature to fixate on things; it happened all the time. Eventually the fixation would run its course, and he'd move on to something else.

He hadn't really given much thought to whether or not it had been bothering Dom, though, and he was disappointed in himself, disappointed that he hadn't seen that it was genuinely annoying him.

Dom was so obviously baffled at that statement that Viggo felt compelled to explain himself, which didn't really happen all that often. He wrote it off to guilt over irritating Dom. "One where you aren't fucking with the camera," he said.

Billy snorted and picked up his tea, but he didn't actually drink any. Bill held more tea than he ever actually consumed, Viggo had noticed. "You mean _fucking_ the camera," Billy said; the smile on his lips was a little cutting, but the tone was fond. "That's what he's doing, really."

"You've got that wrong," Dom scoffed. "The phrase is 'making love to the camera.'"

"Not for what you're doing," Billy said dismissively, and turned his attention to the waitress, who wanted to refill his still nearly-full cup. Billy let her, because he was also someone who didn't like to disappoint if he could help it.

Dom blinked at the back of Billy's head, his chin cocked slightly, eyes brightbright, like the back of Billy's head was one of the most interesting things he'd ever seen, and then returned to lounging, a secretive smile just barely curling up the corners of his mouth.

Viggo forced himself not to raise his camera. He wasn't enough of an asshole to keep trying if it really bothered Dom, and besides that …

Maybe that look wasn't something he should record on film anyhow.

Lots of cultures believed that capturing a moment in a photograph somehow stole something away from the subject. Viggo had never believed that, obviously, but it occurred to him then that maybe _Dom_ did. Even if he didn't know he did.

And he didn't want Dom to feel like Viggo was stealing things from him.

Then Billy turned back, smiling at them, and Dom's face went normal again. Not shuttered -- he didn't exactly try to hide anything -- but just … Dom. Laughing and cracking wise, all of life a lark.

And he wondered if he had seen what he had thought he'd seen, and was thoroughly irritated at not having taken a picture when he'd had the chance, so he could look at it later and find out for sure.

Because for a moment there, he had thought…

He was also been under the impression that Billy was straight, and it occurred to him that maybe Dom thought so, too.

He didn't say anything, of course. It wasn't his style to interfere like that, and it wasn't his business.

He stopped sneaking up on Dom and snapping his picture. Dom didn't mention it, though he threw Viggo a few quizzical looks.

**

 _He isn't sure if he's supposed to take it or not. Dom is holding it in his open palms, like an offering, but his eyes are on Viggo's face, both worried and expectant, and Viggo isn't sure exactly what Dom wants from him. Dom answers the question -- although not out loud -- when Viggo reaches out to trace a fingertip over the supple leather, just curious about how it will feel. Dom's hands close into fists around the leather, and he makes a startled, almost panicky sound. Viggo draws his hands back carefully and puts them safely on his own knees._

 _He looks at Dom, and there is that expectation again; it looks a bit pained. Viggo frowns because he still doesn't know what this is all about, and he also isn't sure why they aren't_ talking _about what it's about. Dom cuts his eyes to one side, which just makes Viggo frown harder._

 _He's never seen Dom do anything quite like that._

 _Dom's hands are twisting and flexing again, white-knuckled around the leather, and his anxiety and distress are so obvious -- and he isn't trying to hide them with his customary cheek and cockiness -- that Viggo genuinely aches for him._

 _"Billy's been away a long time," Dom sighs finally, after the silence has spun out into gossamer filaments like piano wire, binding and fine enough to cut._

 _Viggo says nothing, just looks at Dom and tries to figure out if they're having anything remotely resembling a normal interaction, if it's something he_ should _be following, but isn't for some reason. No, he decides eventually. This isn't anything he should understand, and he feels for Dom -- because whatever it is, Dom clearly doesn't want to have to say it -- but there isn't anything he can do but wait for Dom to either tell him, or for understanding to come._

 _It sounds almost like Dom wants him to do something about Billy's long absence. Or maybe do something_ because _of Billy's long absence._

 _But the only thing he can think of is not only improbable -- as Viggo is straight, which he knows Dom knows -- but also highly unlikely for other reasons, as well._

 _Dom wouldn't do something like that. He just wouldn't._

 _Viggo can't imagine a single situation in which it might happen._

 _He's like Exene in many ways, his glaring-glam-punk personae, his cheek and his sense of fun, his adventuresome spirit and his good heart, but that is one way in which they are different. Dom may have been a proponent of free love at one point in time, but that time is past, if it had ever existed at all._

 _He looks at the collar in Dom's hands for long, silent seconds, watches Dom's fingers curl around it, uncurl, twist, pull, stroke…_

 _The collar only makes him more certain that it isn't sex; that's not why Dom is here. He isn't a player and never really had been, but he knows some of the rules, and he understands the meaning behind that collar. It even makes sense that Dom wouldn't want him handling it. In a sense, for Dom, it would be just as intimate as Viggo reaching out and curling his hand around Dom's cock. It just isn't done._

 _It comes to him not like pieces in a puzzle, but like turning on the television. On the old sets, you'd get a faintbright dot in the center of the screen which slowly expanded into a horizontal line, and it's like that, a quivering touch of understanding, and then the whole picture is there, abrupt and fully formed, and Viggo understands._

 _Camera-fucking._

 _Of course._

**

It happened at Te Anu, finally, the day of the freakish snowstorm that sent the lot of them out to wander in the snow, amazed and delighted like rather simple-minded children.

It happened when Viggo wasn't even trying anymore, and the camera's presence was incidental, a coincidence of muscle-memory, timing, and opportunity.

Dom knew the camera was there, of course. Viggo had already taken some shots of Elijah that he thought would turn out to be really breathtaking, and he was already pondering filters to use, maybe lighten them just a bit, to see what it would look like if he bled Elijah's ice-white skin into the snow.

He was pleasantly distracted from shooting anyone else because Elijah, Billy, and Sean engaged themselves in a snowball fight of epic proportions -- although Viggo thought it was more like a snow _wad_ fight, because the snow was fluffy and wet, some of the most enormous flakes Viggo had ever seen, but it didn't pack very well. It fell apart like handfuls of feathers if you threw it, and their first attempts at forming the snow into missiles looked like dead birds falling from the sky, disintegrating into wispy, sparkling fragments before reaching the ground.

Once they'd figured that out what didn't work, however, they made do with what did. The snowwad: basically a wadded up handful of snow, packed as tightly as could be managed. A couple of snowwads shoved into the outerwear of an opponent seemed to do the trick nicely. Or so Viggo surmised, from the screaming and cursing involved.

Sean was methodical in his approach, as always, and had formed a large pile of snow, his own personal ammo cache, which he didn't wander far from. Sadly, Elijah was faster and squirmy, and for every snowwad Sean managed to shove down the back of Elijah's bulky sweater, he suffered several to be stuffed down his own fleece jacket. And not only from Elijah, as Billy was a snowwad sniper, and he specialized in attacks of opportunity.

Billy was as fast as Elijah and quite a bit more determined. Elijah was easily distracted, and stopped in the midst of the fight more than once to make a snow angel, or to build tiny snowmen with stick arms -- Elijah took great pleasure in giving his snow-folk fig-leaf type garments to wear -- and cigarettes poking out of their drawn-on mouths.

Billy was the seek-and-destroy snow-commando member of the party, waiting with evil patience until Elijah was distracted by something else, and then springing upon him with a snowwad in each hand.

There was much swearing of vengeance and many insults to various persons' manhoods, and then Billy went on a Godzilla-esque rampage, stomping flat an entire cigarette-smoking snowfamily.

It all ended when Elijah, incensed by the wanton destruction of innocent snow-people -- or so he said -- climbed a tree to lie in wait for Billy. It hadn't taken Billy long to follow Elijah's tracks to the tree in question (Viggo wondered if Elijah had done that on purpose, or if it had been dumb luck), and once Billy moved beneath it far enough for Elijah's purposes, Elijah let out a shriek only dolphins and dogs would have been fully able to appreciate and jumped up and down on a branch until the tree unloaded its entire coating of snow right on top of Billy's head. He shrieked: "Wrath of the Gods, Wrath of the Gods, suffer for your sins, fell Hobbit!" the whole time, and Billy cursed in what Viggo suspected was Gaelic.

It happened when Viggo glanced at Dom, Billy's curses still rumbling in his ears, and Elijah's shrieks just morphing into dismayed yelps -- as Billy wasted no time in brushing the snow off his head and starting up the tree after him -- curious as to why Dom wasn't playing, and with no intent whatsoever to take any pictures, and then he saw Dom's face.

Viggo was vaguely aware of Elijah's glee-filled shrieks of terror, cut off mid-shriek as Elijah prudently decided to swing down off of his tree branch like a monkey and make a run for it, but it was distant.

Close by, there was only the whirr and click of the camera, Viggo's hands shooting from the hip before he even got the viewfinder up to his eye, and then there was the sight of Dom, framed in the little box, crouched on a bench with his bare knees poking up, pale and vulnerable. He had a wine bottle clasped loosely in one hand, and his face was a soft focus study in pleasure and peace.

He was watching Elijah, his lips faintly curved, a smile that was nothing like his normal grin, his camera-fucking grin, and Viggo thought that it was a reflection, softened, of the joy of those around him. Like he absorbed it, maybe, and it was spilling out through his skin like light, like contentment.

It was the kind of smile that implied that all was right with the world; that in that moment, Dom possessed everything he had ever wanted.

When Dom finally looked at Viggo, still smiling, still not camera-fucking, Viggo lowered the camera and smiled back.

He thought, then, if Dom ever _did_ "make love" to the camera, it would be an amazing thing. Heart-stopping.

"Happy now, Vig?" Dom asked kindly, smile crooked, eyes bright, and Dom wasn't a handsome man -- although Viggo had always thought he was interesting to look at, that his face was so very much his own, which he had always felt was more important anyway -- but in that moment, he was strikingly beautiful.

"Yeah," Viggo said, and he wondered if Dom would ever think about letting him put that shot into a book, or maybe display it somewhere.

**

 _Something of understanding must show in his eyes, because when he looks at Dom again, Dom goes slowly, deeply red, face and neck and the tips of his ears. Considering his clear embarrassment, Viggo thinks it's pretty impressive that Dom holds Viggo's gaze._

 _"I can set it up on a timer, you know," Viggo says carefully. "I don't have to be there."_

 _He's done this sort of thing before, for friends, and even for a few strangers. He isn't embarrassed himself, but he's acutely aware of Dom's embarrassment._

 _Dom's hands writhe and tug at the collar, and his expression flickers briefly. It's an improbable mix of hope, mortification, and determination. Interesting enough that Viggo's hands twitch involuntarily, with want of a camera._

 _"I can't do it alone," Dom says unsteadily, and his eyes slide away from Viggo's again, but only for a moment this time. His hands still, tight around the collar. "It's not… easy for me. I… need someone I trust to help me… direct me."_

 __Oh, lucky Billy, _Viggo thinks, and he'd reach out and stroke Dom calm right now, settle him like a skittish horse, except the situation won't allow it. It's funny, considering physically affectionate they all are, how many times various cameras have caught them engaged in some form of fondness or another, but he understands the difference._

 _And of course, there is no one else Dom could go to for something like this. Certainly not a professional. It's more than just a nude photo shoot, Viggo understands that clearly. So will Billy, when he gets the photographs, and so it's imperative that things be a certain way, that certain guidelines be understood and followed, so that no boundaries are crossed._

 _It would all be a lot simpler without the collar, of course, but Viggo won't suggest it. The collar is what Dom most wants to send Billy, most needs Billy to see and to know._

 _And Viggo is touched, and he's smiling, and some of the agitation that has been radiating off of Dom retreats, and he smiles a little, too._

 _He is still faintly flushed, but Viggo isn't surprised when Dom makes an attempt to clarify things. "Do you understand…? The collar isn't enough." Slow color infuses his face again, and he swallows hard. "I'll need you to tell me what to do. I can do most of it on my own, but it isn't easy for me, and sometimes … I need a push."_

 _He looks a little embarrassed to admit that, and Viggo guesses it's a failing, of a sort. He isn't surprised by it, though. "I wouldn't have expected anything else from you, Dom," he says a little wryly, and that brings a bit of a smirk to Dom's lips, and it looks right at home there, Viggo is pleased to see. He'll have to try and capture that for Billy. He suspects Billy sees it all the time. He reflects on that for a moment, and finds that he isn't surprised to know this about them. Not exactly, anyway._

 _Secrets are like curtains, he's always felt: some of them are thin, made from gossamer threads, organza, and some are thicker, like raw silk, and then there are some that are like rich, heavy velvet, and those last block nearly every kind of light, so that the things on the other side are mysteries, completely obscured, maybe only revealing a shape here or a bulge there. Even the heaviest of curtains can be rendered momentarily translucent with the right kind of light, however, and the flash of a camera is ideal for that kind of thing. He hadn't known this about them, but he had known things that make a lot more sense now that he knows this. He had known bits of things that now add up into a whole._

 _"Viggo," Dom whispers. "I really can't spend much more time thinking about this. I… don't really do well with waiting."_

 _Viggo nods, because, yes, he can see how that would be hard, and stands up quickly. Then Dom is standing too, and Viggo is close enough to see the shimmer of fear in his eyes, and he pauses, a little taken aback._

 _"Ignore it," Dom says, and turns away, walks toward the hallways. "It'll pass. It's supposed to happen."_

 _He does, because in spite of the fact that he's the "director," this isn't really his show. "Okay," he says, and nods. "I need to set up the studio. It won't take long."_

 _Dom nods and doesn't speak._

 _Viggo takes a couple of steps and stops when Dom says his name._

 _"Are you sure?" Dom asks, plaintive and genuine. "Are you sure you understand?"_

 _It's a fair question, Viggo knows, because this is one of those things you can't really stop doing in the middle of. Once you start, it's a commitment, and Viggo isn't going to get a safe word. If anyone gets a safe word, it'll be Dom. Although Viggo doesn't think Dom will ask for one. Viggo would insist, except he isn't going to so much as touch Dom, and "stop" will do well enough._

 _And he wonders what Dom's safe word is with Billy._

 _"I understand the basics," he says, which is true. He doesn't play, but he's known people who do, and he's comfortable enough with the concept._

**

After Te Anu, Viggo and Dom and Viggo's camera got along a lot better. Viggo didn't feel much of an urge to try and pin Dom down on film, and Dom didn't seem to feel as much of an urge to avoid any photograph that showed anything real.

He even got Dom to pose a few times without the camera-fucking, and was impressed with Dom's ability to convey anything Viggo asked for. Still photographs could be hard, even for actors; it was a different medium, meant to deliver things in tiny glimpses for the most part, and when Dom wasn't trying to dominate the photo, he was really very good at conveying subtleties. There was a picture with a fish that Viggo especially liked. He thought he'd ask Dom about displaying that one, too.

It was weeks, maybe even a few months after Te Anu, that Viggo came home to find Billy sitting on his porch with a bottle of whisky and a jar of honey.

"I'm not into that kinky shit, Hobbit," he said, and Billy grinned at him.

"You look like arse," Billy said succinctly, and they both cracked up.

"Glad to know we're on the same page," Viggo laughed, once the exhausted, punch-drunk chuckles tapered off. "Now, why are you here?"

"I need a reason to visit the King of Men?" Billy asked, arching an eyebrow at Viggo. "I bring a handsome tithe from the land of my people." The grin on his lips turned wicked, and he turned the label for Viggo to inspect.

"Nice!" Viggo said, pleased and a little impressed -- as well as curious as to how Billy had gotten it to New Zealand and kept it from being summarily dispatched by his fellow Hobbits. "Come right in, then."

Billy made "hot toddies," refusing to let Viggo help, and they sat and talked and drank, until Billy eventually confessed that Orlando had told him that Viggo had a nasty chest cold, which was true. "My Gran swears these will fix anything," Billy confided, nodding a little drunkenly, and Viggo stated his resolution never to doubt Billy's grandmother.

Some time later, Viggo staggered to the bathroom to get rid of some slightly used whisky, and when he came back into the room, Billy was peering thoughtfully at some photographs of Dom that Viggo had left lying on the end table. "These are good," Billy said, but his tone was a little flat.

"He's easy to photograph when he's feeling cooperative," Viggo said, and felt a little more sober, watching Billy slowly work his way through the pictures. The look on Billy's face was pleasantly neutral, nothing odd about it, really, except that it was out of place in the hot-toddy drinking, drunken-bullshitting, looking-at-pictures-of-your-best-mate here and now. And it eventually occurred to Viggo that it meant that Billy was hiding something; that pleasantly neutral expression wasn't any more real than Pippin and was there merely to keep anything else from being there.

"Your secret crush?" Billy taunted once he had gone through the entire stack, smiling, but his eyes were dark. Viggo understood, and was quietly and simply happy for Dom.

"No," he said, giving Billy a drunken leer. "Those are under my mattress, but don't tell Cate." An outrageous lie -- there _were_ pictures under his mattress, but not of Cate -- but he reasoned that it was for a good cause. Billy's eyes were a little flinty -- not a thing Viggo had ever expected to see on Billy's face, because Billy was so full of light and laughter and kindness that it seemed like there shouldn't be room for anything else -- even with the smile and the teasing tone.

Billy laughed, and Viggo spent the next hour dragging out pictures of the entire cast, separated into piles just like the stack of photos of Dom, and he watched Billy slowly relax and discard his jealousy, and he was fairly certain he would have never known if Billy hadn't been drunk, and if they hadn't been alone.

He wondered if Dom would ever get a similar opportunity.

**

 _He realizes too late that he hadn't understood. Not really._

 _He's standing in his studio, half in shadow, looking at Dom. He's stuck in an entirely unfamiliar state of semi-awe, and he wonders, now, if he can pull this off._

 _Dom is standing in the spot Viggo had pointed him toward. He isn't moving, and hasn't moved for several minutes. And Viggo is getting the idea that he isn't going to move until Viggo tells him to._

 _Maybe he should have gotten Dom to clarify things for him. Just a bit. Because it's obvious to him now that he hadn't understood -- though if he is honest with himself (and he usually is), he probably would've agreed anyhow, if he had._

 _Whatever else he is -- artist, photographer, poet, actor -- he is a person who likes to know things, someone who likes to discover new things and explore them. So he tells himself, anyway, and has been telling himself pretty much since Dom had walked through the door and moved to stand where Viggo indicated._

 _So he had been telling himself since he had watched the subtle shift in Dom's stance, his demeanor, his_ face _. Viggo doesn't know how to define what he sees there; there are too many things, and they're oddly blended together, like emotions that have never existed before, new on the face of the world. He thinks he will spend a lot of time in the near future searching for words to fit them._

 _He wishes, stupidly, that he had his camera. It takes him more than a minute to realize that he_ does _._

 _Dom is standing quite still, which seems just unnatural. Dom isn't this still even when he's asleep. The quiet is broken by the even sounds of Dom breathing, no rustle or clink of rings to indicate that there is a Dom in the room, and Viggo wonders if Dom is meditating, if that's the explanation behind his utter stillness._

 _The collar is buckled snugly around Dom's throat, deeply black against the pale gold of Dom's skin. Viggo considers color film and decides against it. With the shadows in the room, contrived to fall just so by an undraped window and a Chinese screen, black and white will be far more striking._

 _"Do you want full nudes?" he asks finally, fiddling with his camera, dragging the tripod two inches to the left, adjusting the focus without looking through the lens. His voice comes a little roughly from his throat, but it sounds steady and even, and he thinks that is important._

 _Dom turns to look at him, his head angled slightly. "What do you think?" he asks, whisper-soft and deep._

 _He decides to rephrase the question. "Will Billy want full nudes?" he tries._

 _"Yes," Dom answers at once, no noticeable hesitation. His eyes are impossible gunmetal swirls, glittering and arcane, and Viggo's hands know to take the picture while his eyes are still marveling. He centers Dom in the frame and steps a bit to the right to catch the full effect of the deferential tilt of his head. He takes three shots in quick succession, moving only slightly before the last, to catch a stray beam of light as it spangles across the collar._

 _He wonders briefly what is in Dom's head right now, but the question is only there for a moment. It's really not important._

 _It's important to capture this Dom on film. This Dom is as different from camera-fucking Dom as night is from day._ Moon Dom, _Viggo thinks vaguely, his eyes drawn to the loose curl of Dom's hands, glittering with rings, but still. He takes a picture of them._

 _"Unbutton your shirt," Viggo says, and Dom complies, fingers quick and clever. When he's done, his hands fall to his sides. The shirt hangs agape, and Viggo snaps a picture of his falling hands against the plane of his belly._

 _Dom doesn't move when Viggo lowers the camera to look at him. And Dom won't move, he knows. Because Viggo is supposed to direct him, it's Viggo's job to tell him when to move, and he's just beginning to truly comprehend how intimate and complicated this is going to be._

 _And the whole straight thing notwithstanding, Viggo can feel it affecting him. He's a little irritated with himself for being surprised._

 _But this is his work, and Dom is his friend, and Viggo doesn't like to let people down if he can help it._

 _"Take your shirt off," he says, and Dom shrugs it off his shoulders (Viggo captures the ripple that shrug causes across Dom's chest and belly). The shirt catches on the leather around his wrists, and Dom arches his back a little (click) to reach behind him and tug his hands free. When he drops the shirt to the floor, Viggo sees that his feet are already naked. His toenails are polished bright blue. His feet look oddly vulnerable with the hems of his jeans crumpled atop the arches, pale skin against the rough weave of denim. "Spread your feet apart," Viggo says, and he's going mostly by feel now, hoping that he knows Billy well enough to recognize what it is he would want from this, but also understanding that there are some things that just scream to be captured (click as Dom's right foot slides away from his left, the arch momentarily revealed) whether or not Billy will appreciate them or not. And he's got plenty of film and he's got plenty of time. He takes another shot of Dom's feet, and when he pans up with his eye still in the viewfinder, he suddenly has Dom's face framed, and the faint smile there, and the soft shape of his mouth, and he clicks several times even as he feels his mouth go dry, and surprised desire nudges its way into the deepest places in his belly._

 _"Turn around," he says, and Dom obeys, and Viggo clicks several times at the slow, graceful clench of his muscles as he moves, thinking of how the shift of them beneath the skin will be obvious if he overexposes them just a little, to heighten the shadows._

 _Dom's back is straight, and his hands are still loose curls at his sides. Viggo isn't sure if there is a correct way to phrase it, but he wants to see Dom's arms tight, wants to see the lines of muscle stand out and strain. He circles around to Dom's left and shoves things away from the wall, making room for Dom there. He can feel Dom, still and silent, watching him, but Dom doesn't ask._

 _That, more than anything else, makes all of this feel surreal and impossible. He ignores the feeling and steps away. "Put your hands on the wall," he says, and Dom walks over -- Viggo is disturbed to note that his first impulse is to use the word 'glides' -- and presses his palms to the wall, hands just above shoulder height, spread just a little wider than his shoulders. "Spread your legs," Viggo murmurs, and it's funny how quickly he is getting used to doing this. Although really, it's not that different from the other photographs he's taken for friends._

 _Except it is, of course._

 _He thinks that Dom's chest is made more naked by the jeans still hanging on his narrow hips. "Push against the wall."_

 _He takes half a dozen pictures of the lines of Dom's arms, the bunching muscles in his stomach. When he has Dom's stomach framed, he gets a full zoom view of the bulge tucked into the crotch of Dom's jeans._

 _He hopes Dom won't notice that his breathing has quickened slightly, but he suspects that Dom already has._

 _He takes a few steps back and licks at his dry lips, and Dom doesn't move. Not only does he not move, but he continues to push against the wall, steady and unrelenting force. And it occurs to Viggo that if he keeps doing that, he will eventually start to sweat. It is neither warm nor cold in the room, but Dom isn't holding back. He is exerting himself. Viggo can see the tendons in his neck._

 _They disappear beneath the edge of the collar and reappear on the other side. "Tip your head back," Viggo says, and Dom does. The tendons strain a little against the leather, and Viggo takes pictures. He can see Dom's pulse, and he can see the faint red indentation the top of the collar has left on his throat. He zooms in (click) and wishes he could capture the tremor of Dom's pulse point for Billy as well._

 _"Move back into the middle of the room," he says, and then, before Dom gets there, adds: "Unbutton your jeans."_

 _He watches Dom's fingers on his button fly through the viewfinder, clicks only twice. The weight of the buttons pull one side of fly downward, and Viggo snaps a picture of the dark hair below Dom's navel, half-concealed by denim. "Open it," he says, which probably isn't the clearest instruction in the world, but Dom doesn't hesitate. He takes hold of the denim and spreads both sides, revealing the slab of muscle (click click click) just beneath his belly button, which tapers down between his hipbones. Viggo backs up to frame Dom's bare feet and the exposed skin below his navel at the same time._

 _"Kneel down," he says, and Dom does, and his hands go behind his back as if by reflex. It drives a deep, clenching pulse of heat into Viggo's belly, which he ignores. As if he realizes he's done something he hasn't been asked to do, Dom shifts and relaxes his arms. "No," Viggo says, and his voice is sharper than means for it to be. "Put them back."_

 _He frames Dom's chest (click), and Dom's thighs, spread wide (click), and from a slight angle, he frames Dom's feet again. For a moment he is absorbed by the sight of Dom's arches, by the way his toes are cocked to take his weight, by the way his ass rests on his heels. He moves around behind Dom and takes pictures of his wrists, crossed behind his back. The leather cuffs around Dom's wrists, although mismatched, give a fairly convincing illusion of some kind of restraint. He captures this, as well, from a little bit of a distance, using the shadows in the room to heighten the illusion._

 _"Put your arms up." Dom's hands rise, and Viggo watches as they again cross at the wrists. Dom doesn't have to be told to extend his arms fully. The muscles in his back shift and tense._

 _Viggo moves around in front of Dom again. For long moments, he just looks at Dom. Dom looks back. He's still smiling a little. His eyes are still that improbable dark-metallic gleam._

 _Viggo takes a moment to put more film in the camera. He sees that there is a beer, open, the bottle still glistening with condensation, sitting on top of the worktable just inside the door. He glances at Dom. Dom looks back, and there is a hint of a smirk, the barest twitch, at the left side of his mouth._

 _Viggo takes a long, cold swallow of beer. It feels great, cold and wet, and the inside of his mouth tingles a little, as though its absorbing the moisture like a sponge. After a moment of thought, he takes the bottle to Dom and tips it toward him, a silent offer._

 _Dom looks at him, and the hint of smirk actually becomes a smirk. His arms are still stretched up above his head. Viggo hasn't told him he could put them down. Dom tilts his head slightly, and his eyes close to half-mast, until he's looking at Viggo through the dark wisps of his eyelashes._

 _Viggo isn't sure if he wants to smile or glower. Dom doesn't actually move, not really, but the muscles in his belly and chest flex a little, and his lips curl just a touch more._

 _The little bastard._

 _Viggo is tempted to set the beer down in front of him and leave it. He wonders if Dom would sulk. He wonders how that would look. He decides it's probably not a good idea, not without some regret._

 _"Put your arms down," he says, and Dom does, slowly. "If you want a drink, take the beer."_

 _For a moment, Dom doesn't move, and Viggo can feel the tension and indecision thrumming off of Dom, like it's seeping out of his skin. Then he curls his ringed fingers around the bottle (clink clink) and takes it. Viggo watches him drink. He realizes that Dom is taking small sips because of the collar. It must be uncomfortable to swallow past it._

 _The idea sort of naturally leads to others, and Viggo turns away. He thinks_ he _might be blushing a little now. His cock has been hard for a while now. It's not within his power to stop from wondering what kinds of things Dom does for Billy, what kinds of things Billy_ makes _Dom do. It takes him several deep breaths and some deliberate concentration to push the thoughts away._

 _He goes and takes the bottle back from Dom. Once Viggo has taken it, Dom slides his hands around to the small of his back again, as though that's the way he is most comfortable. The thought makes Viggo feel unsettled and a little too warm._

 _He's amused to find that he's attempting to reason with himself silently. He thinks it's a bit late to be arguing for straightness, so he makes himself stop. He can live with being mostly heterosexual, he supposes._

 _He picks up the camera as he walks back over to Dom. Dom looks up at him from his knees, and Viggo takes a picture. Dom blinks and turns his face slightly to one side, and Viggo can see the side of his neck again. He takes a picture of that, too._

 _He backs away a few feet and goes down to one knee. He has to force his voice to come out calm and disinterested. He thinks he manages calm, anyway. "Take your cock out."_

 _And Dom hesitates for the first time. He bites at his lower lip (click) and looks down slightly, his brows drawing together (click click). His hands unfold from the small of his back and he rises all the way up to his knees, but for long moments his hands just hover near the open fly of his jeans, like butterflies caught in a strong gust, trembling with effort, but unable to move forward. Viggo watches him through the viewfinder, focused on Dom's hands, and then raises it to frame Dom's face instead. There is fear there again, and the gleam of it brightens Dom's eyes even more. He isn't frowning, not quite, but his bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his face is flushed again, he is flushed all the way down to his chest, in fact. His hands still hover and tremble in front of his groin._

 _For just a moment, Viggo wishes he had chosen the color film._

 _He has the feeling that Billy would appreciate this._

 _He's not quite willing to ask again without giving Dom time to overcome his hesitation, but he does lower the camera so he can watch Dom, and so Dom can see that he's waiting. Dom doesn't look back -- it's the first time he hasn't since he had come into the room -- but focuses instead on a spot on the floor in front of Viggo._

 _Long seconds tick past, and Viggo understands that this is why he is here. This is what Dom had meant by needing a push, sometimes. He thinks about that, thinks about how best to do it. It would probably be easier if his cock didn't feel like it was strangling to death inside his jeans -- he isn't sure he understands why the look on Dom's face should be so… so… excruciating, but there it is -- but there isn't anything he can do about that._

 _"Dom," he says finally, and it seems to startled Dom into looking at him, eyes wide and bright with one of those unnamable emotions Viggo had seen before, something comprised of too many things to be easily identified. "Do you behave like this for Billy?" he asks softly._

 _Dom's hands jerk slightly, curl into fists, and then relax. The flush on his cheeks goes even darker. Viggo decides he's secure enough in his masculinity to admit that Dom is fucking_ edible _. "Take out your cock, Dom," he says again, this time with some bite to it._

 _Dom's hands quiver once, curl partway closed, and drop down to his jeans. Viggo hears him exhale, a shuddery sound, and glances up at Dom's face. His eyes are closed, his brows knit with beautiful, poignant desperation-laced determination. Viggo's hands work the camera independently of the rest of him, capturing Dom's face, the shadow of his hand on his belly, the curve of his wrist as his fingers slide into his jeans, the flex of the tendons as he curls his fingers around his cock, and with several quick and furious jabs of Viggo's finger, he captures Dom's cock, practically frame by frame, as he tugs it free of his jeans._

 _Viggo exhales -- he is distantly amused to find that he'd been holding his breath -- and lowers his camera. His hands aren't quite steady, and he rests his forearms on his thigh._

 _Dom lets go of his cock as soon as it's free. It's rigid and deeply red. At the angle Dom is kneeling -- back on his heels again -- it curves up and to the left of his navel, nearly touching his belly. His eyes are still closed, but his brow has smoothed out some, and he's taking deep, steadying breaths. After a few seconds, he opens his eyes. They are dark with humiliation. He looks straight at Viggo, and it makes Viggo ache, makes his balls throb with unrelieved and unrelievable tension._

 _Viggo stands slowly, and walks closer. Dom goes tense as he closes in, and his eyes get very wide. Viggo could tell him that he has no intention of touching him, but he doesn't. He's aware that it's a little cruel. He still doesn't._

 _He goes back to one knee within arms reach of Dom. "Push your jeans down further," he says, and Dom kneels up and shoves his jeans down his thighs. They bunch around his knees, and Dom widens his stance a little, presumably for balance, or maybe just for show. Viggo isn't sure. If it's for show, however, it's well done. The view is amazing. Viggo doesn't even bother wondering where that puts him on the heterosexuality chart this time. He doesn't fucking care. "Lean back and brace yourself on your left hand," he murmurs, and Dom does. It's exactly what Viggo meant, and he marvels a little at the way Dom can translate his intent from his imprecise words. He wonders where that comes from, if it's a developed skill or a natural talent._

 _Dom's back is a neat, smooth slope, arching just a little over his own heels. His fingers are splayed wide behind him to support his weight; the position pushes his hips up and the weight of his cock brings it to rest on his belly, where it is dark and flushed against his skin. "Put your right hand on your belly," Viggo says, and Dom's long fingers splay obediently and inch or so above the head of his cock. His hand is darker than his belly; his cock is darker than his hand._

 _Viggo photographs the contrast from the side, and then rises to his feet to get it from above. He can see the faint shine of exertion on Dom's skin now._

 _He can smell it, too. He can smell Dom._

 _He steps back a little way. "Tilt your head back and close your eyes."_

 _Dom blinks at him for a moment, but he does it. The movement flexes his throat and the collar slides up slightly. There is a firm red line around Dom's throat just below the bottom edge. It looks as though he's been garroted. Viggo licks sweat off his upper lip and snaps three pictures, two separate angles and one zoomed in tight. He backs up and frames Dom's whole body, as close as he can and still get everything in the shot._

 _He thinks Billy had better send him some more of that whisky they'd shared once for Christmas, dammit. A whole case of it._

 _"Cup your balls," he murmurs, and waits, watches Dom's fingers stiffen on his belly, watches them twist. Watches as they slowly slide down across his hipbone (click), hesitate, then curl down and under, cupping (click) his balls loosely. Viggo thinks Dom's hand is shaking, but it's hard to be sure. "Tighter." Dom's fingers flex, and Dom_ hisses, _he fucking_ hisses _and his hips rock up slightly, and Viggo sees Dom's cock jerk, coming up off Dom's belly for an instant, and he blinks and forgets to take a picture. He sees the shine of precome on the head, and he is absolutely rapt, watching it gather, he cannot move or think. He might have stood there for the rest of the day if Dom hadn't made a sound, a tiny whimper. Viggo shakes his head, and forces his arms up, forces the camera up, and takes the picture._

 _He feels almost numbed at the force of his want. He wonders if Billy feels like this, wonders how **Dom** feels, and he can't imagine, can't even get **close**. He understands the fear he had seen in Dom's eyes, now. And he thinks he understands why it doesn't stop him._

 _"Put your hand on your cock," he says, and Dom's head tilts up, and his eyes open, fixed on Viggo. The shine of fear is back and it's almost desperate in his eyes, and Viggo raises the camera (click click click). "Do it," he says, and Dom shakes his head once, and bites his lip. He closes his eyes._

 _Viggo feels a splinter of something hard and sharp in his mind. It feels almost foreign, something from the outside, but he knows better than that. "All right," he says, his voice so deliberately cold that_ he _wants to wince at it. "We're done then."_

 _He turns and walks away._

 _Dom lets out a short cry, an almost-sob, and Viggo ignores it, ignores the band of heat it ignites around his groin, ignores the heavy, painful twisting in his balls. He keeps walking._

 _He doesn't stop until Dom gasps, "Viggo," and his voice is a deep, harsh snarl that is somehow also despairing. "Please." And that is a whisper._

 _Viggo stops. He doesn't turn. Not immediately, though, of course he will. He stands still and feels the beat of his heart in his cock and listens to Dom breathe and wishes, for the smallest instant, that Dom was possible. He wouldn't hurt Billy for anything, and he loves them both, loves them together, and he really doesn't want to even think it, but he can't help it. Dom's smell is strong in his nose, and it feels as though the arch of Dom's hips and the shape of Dom's cock are burned into his retinas, and he hasn't wanted anyone this badly in so long he can't remember it. He takes several deep breaths._

 _He deliberately calls to mind the flinty look he had seen in Billy's eyes once. And he knows he couldn't actually keep Dom, anyhow. He doesn't even want to. Once this is done, once the photos are developed and sent off to Billy, once Dom is no longer writhing and perfectly obedient on his fucking floor, once Viggo gets his rocks off and rediscovers his ability to think, he will probably become mostly heterosexual again -- although he thinks it's likely that some doors, once opened, can never be closed, so maybe he will never think of himself as entirely 'straight' again. This want will pass. This want is a matter of circumstance._

 _"Viggo?" Dom whispers uncertainly._

 _Viggo takes one more deep breath, and turns back to Dom. "Billy," he says, growls even, with a deliberate narrowing of eyes, "is not going to be happy with you, I think." He is an actor, after all. Dom's eyes are wide, his lips parted softly. "The fact that you can't follow simple directions doesn't really reflect well on him, does it?"_

 _And for just an instant, Viggo can see the clear gleam of understanding in Dom's eyes, barely a flicker, but he thinks that they are both reassured._

 _"I'm sorry," Dom breathes, and Viggo doesn't doubt it's completely genuine, that Dom is sincerely repentant, and it doesn't matter that he also knows that Dom understands exactly what's going on, that Viggo is manipulating him with empty threats. Suspension of disbelief. He suspects it's a skill Dom possesses quite strongly._

 _It's a good thing, as Viggo's threats lack the substance of Billy's._

 _Viggo brings the camera up, pausing to meet Dom's eyes over the top of it. "Don't push me again," he says, and Dom shivers and shakes his head quickly. Viggo raises the viewfinder, and says: "Your cock."_

 _Dom's hand barely hesitates this time before curling around the shaft of his cock. The contrast is stunning -- dammit, he should have gone with the color film -- and Viggo moves in, snapping pictures as he closes the distance. He alternates between Dom's hand on his cock and Dom's face, because, really, it's too beautiful. His furrowed brow, his slick lips -- Viggo can hear the harsh sound of the fast, short breaths he's taking -- and the deep flush of humiliation. His eyes are closed, though, and Viggo wants to see them, thinks Billy would want to see them as well._

 _"Open your eyes," he says, and Dom's lashes flutter briefly before opening, and Viggo knows he's going to spend the next several weeks trying to list everything he sees there, trying to put it into coherent words, and he will probably fail, but that's all right. He feels privileged, he feels deeply honored, that Dom will let him see it at all. Dom doesn't object when Viggo kneels down right next to him, and doesn't try to close his eyes again. "Head back," he murmurs, and Dom's head falls back and Viggo shoots the collar, shoots the slick sweat gracing the lines of Dom's collarbones, and only draws away again so he can get another shot of Dom's whole body._

 _"Okay," he says, and his mouth is abruptly dry again. "Move your hand."_

 _Dom releases his cock with a faint whimper, and Viggo suspects him of being deliberately obtuse, but chooses not to call him on it this time._

 _"No, Dom. Move your hand on your cock. Stroke your cock."_

 _A faint sound of distress, and that look, the pained furrowing of his brow, but he doesn't hesitate, and Viggo watches Dom's hand move, the first stroke slow and almost tentative (click), those following faster, harder. Dom's knuckles go white, and Viggo captures them on film._

 _"God," Dom whimpers, and his eyes drift closed._

 _"No," Viggo snaps. "Watch."_

 _Because if he has to see it, so does Dom. And Dom does, Dom opens his eyes and looks, and it seems to pull him past something, some line or threshold, and he hisses: "Oh, jesusfuckjesusfuck, please," and the tendons in his wrist are standing out vividly (click), and his hips are jerking up, pushing his cock through his fist (click), and Viggo can see the muscles of his forearms working as he twists hard (click), so hard it has to hurt, but the cry he gives isn't pain -- at least not completely -- it's a kind of helpless, grateful wail (click), and it brings Viggo to the balls of his feet, his heart hammering and his entire body shaking with want._

 _"Please," Dom cries, and Viggo realizes he's meant to answer that, he's meant to actually let him, give him permission._

 _"Yes," he says, because he doesn't think he can get enough air for anything else, and his knees feel weak and unreliable, so he sinks down onto the floor for the rest, just shooting everything now, the way Dom's head falls back, the way his jaw clenches and the muscles there jump, and his hips twist up, back arched, grip savage around his cock._

 _He shouts Billy's name when he comes, literally shouts it, and Viggo shoots the deep bow of his back, the lines of his chest and belly as his come spatters across them, his flexing thighs, and his face, beautiful in abandon, mouth open and eyes clenched shut, shimmering with sweat._

 _Dom lies there for long moments, spent and shivering slightly, tremors visible in his arms and legs._

 _"Take your jeans off," Viggo eventually whispers, and Dom makes an 'mmph' sound, and doesn't move._

 _"Dom," Viggo says. "Take them off. I want Billy to see you naked." Which is true._

 _Dom opens one eye and peers at Viggo. He looks as though he barely recognizes him. But after another moment, he raises his legs and struggles with his jeans, eventually managing to get them off. He goes limp again, limbs sprawling every which way, and Viggo grins a little._

 _It's almost cute._

 _He takes pictures, continuing even after he's fairly sure Dom has fallen asleep. He isn't sure if Billy will want them or not. He wants them._

 _Not that he will keep them. They all have to go to Billy, negatives included, because none of this really belongs to Viggo. The throb in his groin is not something he mistakes for regret. It's more a faintly wistful pulse, and there is a sweet sort of ache to it._

 _The kind of thing that can drive art; he is already thinking of a canvas._

 _He cleans Dom up, because someone has to, and clearly that someone isn't going to be Dom. Not for a few hours, anyhow. And if he lets Dom sleep like this, he'll wake up sticky and stiff and uncomfortable, and considering how much pure will it had taken Dom to even come here today, Viggo doesn't want to mar the experience in his memory. There's no reason to let him wake up confused and uncomfortable and covered in his own dried come._

 _Dom murmurs Billy's name and grasps at Viggo with lax fingers while Viggo wipes him clean. Viggo smiles and feels lucky. He thinks it's a rather large compliment, actually._

 _He finds a blanket and a pillow and manhandles him onto the couch. As he's trying to recover his arm from beneath Dom, his eyelids flicker open, and Viggo finds himself caught in the lucid grey of Dom's gaze._

 _"Vig," Dom says, his voice a little raspy. He blinks a few times, but it doesn't change the way his eyes look._

 _"Go to sleep," Viggo says, and presses his lips to Dom's temple. When he pulls back, he can taste Dom's sweat on his lips._

 _Dom makes a soft, humming noise and nuzzles at Viggo's forearm -- the only place he can reach without actually sitting up -- for a moment, a puppy-like gesture that makes Viggo grin. It's very much a Dom thing to do. "Thank you," Dom murmurs, smiling sweetly._

 _Viggo smiles and kisses him on the forehead. He doesn't say "any time" because it isn't true. He doesn't think he ever wants to do this again._

 _A man could fall in love._

 _He does say, "You're welcome," because that is true._


	5. Contrast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fifth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

Dominic thinks Elijah smells like potential rainstorms, the kind that develop slowly in the distance and waft the smell of grey-white ozone over you in draughts like waves.

Potential rainstorms only, though, the kind that build and build, shadowing the land and blocking out the horizon, but never come close enough to rain, never spill cool moisture on your face, never send jagged bolts of destruction to slash the ground in random, brief spears of light, to be followed by the inevitable rumble of thunder.

Dominic thinks that waiting for Elijah is like waiting for rain that may never fall.

~

Billy thinks Elijah smells like distant wildfire, a smell that hovers at the edges of your awareness, but which intrudes without warning, invades your nose with the acrid smell of potential heat and force.

Wildfire moves like the wind, fast and unpredictable, and - if conditions are right - can close in around you before you even know it, close in and cut off all escape, sometimes even all desire for escape, because wildfire is dangerous, but it's also beautiful, primal and fierce, seductive because it is uncontrollable.

Billy thinks that waiting for Elijah is like waiting to be consumed.


	6. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the sixth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

Elijah wakes up thinking it's morning, because he can feel someone looking at him. That's usually Dom, watching Elijah sleep just before doing something spectacularly unsettling (usually involving ice water or the very loud recorded sounds of roosters crowing) to wake him up. Except it's still dark in his room, without the reddish glow of daylight behind closed eyelids, and he knows it's not morning yet. It's too quiet for morning. He can't hear birds. There are no bands of warmth on his face and chest from sunlight streaming in through uncurtained windows.

He hadn't slept soundly, and had dreamed in snatches, reliving snippets of the night before. As soon as he had started to doze, he felt phantoms of Orlando's playful hands, tugging him out of the circle of fire light, jolting him awake. Next it was Orlando's deeply dark eyes, and puzzled _why not?_ breathed through slick and parted lips. Jolt, and he had wrestled his pillow until he was curled around it. Then it was Billy's face, wavering and unfamiliar in the flickering light, shadowy and distant, and Dom's thigh, warm and close under Elijah's head, but nothing more than a friendly pillow.

He had fallen into real sleep, after that. He thinks it was real sleep, anyway. He doesn't know how long he actually slept, but it feels like years. He can't remember dreaming anything else, and now he's awake again.

He opens his eyes, and yes, it's still the gray-dark of the deep hours of the morning. He just lies there for long moments, wondering at his wakefulness, before remembering the feeling of being looked at. His eyes find the still figure without effort, and Elijah stares at Billy, trying to come up with a reason why Billy might be watching him in the dead hours of the night, still and silent, and only a handful of feet from Elijah's bedside.

He cannot see Billy's face, but there is something odd in the set of his body. Billy looks ... tense, or something. Maybe tense. How long has Billy been standing there?

Why is Billy standing there, watching him sleep?

 _Am I still drunk?_ he wonders. It wouldn't be too terribly surprising if he was. They had imbibed obscene quantities the night before - earlier in the night, actually - during what had nominally been a cookout on the beach, but had more accurately been an excuse to get wasted and build an enormous bonfire. But he doesn't exactly _feel_ drunk, although to be completely honest, he doesn't exactly feel sober either. His head doesn't hurt yet, so he can't have been asleep that long.

Maybe Billy is drunk. Except from what Elijah can remember, Billy hadn't been seriously drinking. Billy was supposed to do the driving, and had only been sipping at a beer.

"Drink this," Billy says, focusing Elijah's attention again. Billy takes two steps closer, and Elijah sees that he's holding a glass in one hand.

Elijah struggles into a sitting position and rubs at his eyes, which feel grainy, like they had collected sand from the beach earlier and he had neglected to blink it away. "Billy?" he says. "What ...?"

 _What are you doing here? What do you want? What is that look on your face?_

Instead of actually asking, though, Elijah scrunches his face into a frown and cocks his head in question.

"Drink this," Billy repeats, and closes the remaining distance between them to press the glass into Elijah's hands.

Elijah takes it, and it is icy cold, shocking against the palms of his hands, and the glass is slick with beaded condensation. Abruptly, he can smell what's in the glass, the sweet/tart of orange juice, and as soon as he smells it, thirst blossoms thickly in his mouth and throat. He drinks greedily. "Thank you," he murmurs when the glass is empty, and Billy takes it from his hand and sets it on the night stand.

"Dom wants you," Billy says.

"Oh,"Elijah says, and slides to the side of the bed. He gropes for his jeans, and Billy's hand reaches across Elijah's body and closes around his wrist.

Elijah looks up, and Billy says: "You needn't bother." Elijah just looks at him. Billy is smiling, Billy even sounds slightly amused, but Elijah can't quite see enough of Billy's face in the gloom to throw off a sense of something not being quite right. He squints up at Billy, but that doesn't help. Billy says again: "Dom want's you." And Billy brushes a casual hand through Elijah's hair, either mussing it further or smoothing out the tangled bed-head, Elijah can't tell for sure.

Whichever it is, it makes Elijah shiver, and he hunches his shoulders a little. Billy does it again, fingers trailing, feather-soft, to the nape of his neck.

Billy isn't wearing a shirt. _I'm still drunk_ , Elijah thinks, and that's as good an excuse as any for noticing that Billy isn't much broader in the chest than Elijah himself, but looks more finished, somehow, the musculature there more apparent, more visible than it is on Elijah's pale, boy-smooth chest. Billy's hand feels hot around Elijah's wrist. Though Elijah is no longer groping for his jeans, Billy has not let go. It does no good to pretend he doesn't notice Billy's proximity, or the way it makes him feel nervous and too warm, so Elijah stands up, angling his body in such a way that Billy has to let go of his wrist, or end up pressed up against Elijah from thigh to chest.

Billy is warm and angular, and he can feel Billy's breath puffing against the side of his face. The soft hairs sprinkling Billy's chest prickle against Elijah's arm. After three long seconds (Elijah counts them off and carefully paces his breathing to match their passing) Billy does let go.

 _Still drunk_ , he thinks again faintly.

"Is he ... is he sick?" Elijah isn't sure how he manages to get the words out considering that the air in the room has become too close and warm. But he does.

He can hear the smile in Billy's voice. "No." Billy slides a too hot hand over the small of Elijah's back and presses, urging him to move forward. Elijah does, stumbling a little, though not because of the dark. "No, he's not sick." Billy's accent is thick, and Elijah feels himself shiver.

 _I'm cold_ , Elijah thinks. He is dressed only in his boxers, after all. But he isn't cold.

Elijah moves forward, guided my Billy's urging hand, across the threshold of his bedroom and into the darker hallway. He turns in the direction Billy's hand indicates, not toward Dom's room, but towards Billy's room (which would be the guest room, except that Billy has been staying in it for so long now that all the guest furniture is gone, replaced by Billy's furniture, shipped from Scotland). When they reach the door, Billy's hand slides from Elijah's back around his hip, reaching past him for the knob. The inside of Billy's forearm is warm and alive against Elijah's ribs. One of Billy's knees nudges at the back of Elijah's thigh, urging him forward again, and this whole thing is feeling so surreal now that he barely notices that Billy is close enough that he can feel the heat of Billy's chest not-quite-touching his naked back.

The room smells of wood polish. The bed, of course, Billy's precious bed. It is dark, but not as dark as the hall, and Elijah can see to walk.

Elijah moves into Billy's room, four steps and stops, he has to stop, because ... because Dom ... because Dom ...

Elijah's world _shifts _, like a swift, jerking camera movement in a film, and his chest locks up. He can feel it lock, a contraction, a tightening of every muscle in his abdomen. He feels himself swaying, and his stupid brain rambles: _I'm still drunk, I'm still very, very drunk.___

Billy's hands close around Elijah's hips, hot and present, and somehow that just makes the world wobble more profoundly. Elijah feels dizzy and faint, and all the blood and heat has drained out of his head and settled firmly just below his navel. "Steady, Elijah," Billy whispers from just behind him, and his breath is hot and damp on the skin behind Elijah's ear, and it _should_ feel impossible and unreal, but somehow this part doesn't, and it works to settle Elijah in a way that the hands on his hips do not.

Elijah's skittering gaze focuses, more than focuses, it feels like his gaze is _magnetically drawn_ to Dom, and Elijah can see nothing else. The rest of his senses have gone dead. He cannot feel Billy's hands on his hips or hear Billy breathing, he can only see Dom. The rest of the world is a gray blur around him.

 

Dom is on Billy's bed, Billy's antique, hand-carved, teakwood bed, imported from India. He is kneeling near the headboard, his hands are resting on it, and he is naked. Elijah's focus narrows further, zooms in like a camera lens, and he can see only slices: Dom's face, Dom's stormy, sea-spray eyes, Dom's chest, gorgeous and forbidden. Dom is lean and hard, and _hard_ , and as soon as Elijah's eyes discover this, they are locked there, they are riveted, and it takes him long seconds, eternal seconds, to drag them back up toward Dom's face.

What is in Dom's face and in the set of his body is so far out of Elijah's realm of experience that he can't begin to understand what is there.

 _I'm dreaming this_ , Elijah thinks. He will wake up in the morning with a hangover, and he will be sweaty and twisted into his own sheets in his own bed with his aching cock pressed against the mattress and the scent of his own arousal heavy in the air. When he wakes, he can tell himself it was just a dream-memory of Orlando's lips and Orlando's urgent body, and he can tell himself he is a fool for not using Orlando the way Orlando had so graphically invited him to.

Because this isn't real. It's too close to fantasy, too close to the things that Elijah keeps separate from his daily thoughts and brings out only at night, in his own bed, in the protection of the dark.

"Dominic," Billy says, and the sound of his voice so close to Elijah's ear brings the rest of the world back again, back from the grayness in which only Dom could be clearly seen. "I brought you something..." and Billy _bites _Elijah, too hard to be soft but too soft to be hard, right at the nape of his neck. Elijah's eyes go wide with surprise, and he feels himself go stiff all over, hears himself make some sort of noise and try to rise to his toes. Billy's fingers dig into his hips and jerk him down, forcing him to stand flat-footed. He feels light-headed, and realizes that he isn't breathing – and has he breathed since he entered the room, since he saw Dom? He isn't sure – and then Billy is lapping at his neck, at the spot where his teeth indented Elijah's skin, and it is _slickhotwet_. Elijah's stored up breath escapes him all at once, an exhalation that sounds like a moan. He can feel Billy's lips curving upward against the back of his neck, and Billy says: "...sweet," as though he is finishing a sentence, but Elijah cannot remember what he had said before.__

 _Drunk_ , Elijah thinks stupidly. He says: "This is a dream," and is startled and dismayed to hear his voice out loud, to hear it trembling, and to hear how _real_ it sounds.

Billy laughs against Elijah's neck. "Would you dream me like this, Elijah?" he purrs, voice all soft and rolling sound. He uses his grip on Elijah's hips to half turn him, just enough to look into his face. Billy's eyes are green stones. He leans slightly forward and presses his lips to Elijah's, flicks his tongue against them, and then bites again, catching Elijah's lower lip hard enough to make him gasp. He slides his tongue into Elijah's mouth, and Elijah feels himself scrabbling for some sort of balance, because things are just _off_ , this just can't be...

But he loses that thought in the rush of heat, loses _all_ thought, and is aware of nothing but Billy's hot lips and wet, deft tongue, pushing into this mouth, curling around his tongue, lapping at the insides of his cheeks.

When Billy releases Elijah, completely releases him this time, he staggers, trying to orient himself. Before he can, Billy is pressed up behind him again, urging him toward the bed, toward Dom, and Elijah is no longer thinking that this is a dream. Billy's mouth was too real, the way Dom is looking at him now is too real, and Dom is twisting his wrists, drawing Elijah's attention to them, and he realizes that Dom isn't just resting his wrists against the headboard of Billy's elaborately carved bed, he is actually _bound_ to the headboard of Billy's bed, and Elijah stops, because there isn't enough of his mind to both walk and gape in astonishment at the same time. He stares and sways on his feet and sort of falls back into Billy's chest. Billy's arms go around his waist, and Elijah lets Billy support his weight, even though his sudden apprehension is enormous and encompassing, because he just cannot hold himself upright alone.

"Stop," Billy says, and it takes Elijah a moment to understand that Billy is talking to Dom, not to him. Dom twists his wrists again, tugs, and Elijah hears the headboard creak a bit. "Dominic." Billy's voice is somehow sharp and silky at the same time, and it is impossible for Elijah to keep from turning to look at Billy. He has to see, because he's never heard that kind of tone from Billy before, _never_. Billy is just looking at Dom. He seems calm, no visible anger, though he has one brow arched as he gazes steadily at Dom. Even without the anger Elijah had expected, Billy looks menacing. From the very edge of his vision, Elijah can see that Dom has subsided, is no longer pulling at the bindings around his wrists. He is giving Billy a hard little smile, almost a sneer.

And it's strangely familiar. He's seen Dom do that before, curl his lip slightly, a look that just about screams: _Fuck you._ He looks at Billy again, really looks at him, and _that_ look isn't new either. That calm regard, almost amusement, the cocked eyebrow; Elijah has seen it, but it never looked _menacing_ before, because it was Billy, and Billy is the least menacing person Elijah has ever known.

Billy _was_ the least menacing person Elijah has ever known.

"Jesus," Elijah says. He feels hot and chaotic. "Jesus, what...?" But he can't finish the question because he doesn't know what he wants to ask.

Billy's arms go around his shoulders and Elijah is turned and pressed up close to Billy's naked chest. He smells like sweat and soap and beer, and also faintly of _Dom_. Elijah breathes it in and Billy's arms are familiar and comfortable around him, and he feels calmer. "Only what he wants, Elijah," Billy murmurs, and that was exactly what Elijah meant, that was the question, how did Billy know? "And only what _you_ want." His tone is gentle, reassuring.

And Elijah believes him, but ... _You don't know what I want,_ he thinks, but what comes out of his mouth is: "How can you know what I want?" Like he already believes that Billy does, somehow.

"I know," Billy says simply.

It is the same tone, meant to be reassuring, but Elijah is not reassured. He is confident that Billy does _not_ know, _can't_ know.

But when Billy slides a denim-clad thigh against Elijah and _presses_ , Elijah lets his certainty dissipate into something like exultant lust. It doesn't matter, he is here, and they are here, and that will do, so he pushes back, his hips doing their own little stutter-jerk thing against the heat of Billy's thigh. He hears Dom jerk against the bindings again, the creak of the headboard loud, and Billy ignores him this time. The sound, however, is an unexpected sizzle against Elijah's nerves, and his hips snap forward hard. His head falls back, and he hears Billy chuckling, and can feel it a moment later, against his bared throat.

"That's the sound of Dommie _needing_ , Elijah," Billy whispers against his throat, and it is a sultry rush of sound, red heat in Elijah's brain. Billy says "needing" like he can taste it, or like he _wants_ to. "Do you like it?"

Elijah feels himself shudder, because, yes, he _does_ like the sound, the jerk and creak of Dom's struggles and the way Dom's breathing is harsh and he is muttering curses under his breath. Elijah slits his eyes and turns his head to look at Dom, and he likes _that_ even better, Dom's twisting wrists and tense shoulders, and Dom is looking at _them_ , at Elijah and Billy, like Dom might be willing to sacrifice one or both hands if it meant being able to get to them.

Billy is pushing him backward and biting at Elijah's throat, and Elijah is trying to move obediently in the direction Billy is pushing him and grind against Billy's thigh at the same time, but Billy's teeth on his throat are making the big muscles in Elijah's thighs feel like heated, thrumming Jell-O. The backs of Elijah's legs hit the bed and he is again aware of Dom's breathing behind him.

"Up," Billy says, and half-lifts Elijah onto his knees on the mattress, and Elijah feels absurdly grateful for the fact that Billy somehow manages to keep his thigh snugly pressed against the ache in Elijah's groin while he maneuvers them both onto the bed. It's a big bed, but not that big, and Dom is maybe a foot away from them. Dom's wrists twist and jerk urgently. When Billy presses Elijah back against the headboard, he can feel it shuddering against his back as Dom tugs.

"Stop it, Dominic," Billy says, giving Dom that level stare, one brow arched, and it is surreal, because Billy is pressed tightly against Elijah's body, but he is _looking_ at Dom. Billy's hands are on Elijah's ribs, stroking, and his thigh is hard and tense pressed up against Elijah's groin - Elijah is aware that he is _grinding_ against Billy's thigh, and gasping, and Billy is pressing harder - but all the time, Billy's gaze never leaves Dom.

Dom gives Billy a full-on sneer this time, lip curled, eyes hard and sultry - _make me_ \- and jerks his wrists hard. Elijah hears metal clink and the creak of protest from the headboard, and it's the same as before, the sound travels from ears to someplace deep in his belly, and he moan's softly even as his gaze is pulled toward Dom's wrists, Dom's _bound_ wrists.

He isn't sure what he expected to see - and that makes him actually utter a strangled little laugh, because he never _expected_ to see Dom tied to Billy's headboard to begin with - maybe handcuffs or stockings or a couple of Dom's supremely ugly ties, but what he _does_ see stops his breath in his throat.

Around Dom's wrists are manacles, actual honest-to-God manacles, albeit manacles made out of leather rather than iron. They are black and wide and the light from the window slides over their smooth surface, and they look amazing and utterly decadent, especially with the muscles in Dom's forearms working visibly beneath the skin just above the leather as he twists his wrists. Elijah reaches out to touch them without thinking, and Dom's wrists still as he strokes his fingertips against the leather. They are smooth and warm from Dom's skin. There is steel there, smooth, cool chain running between the leather cuffs around Dom's wrists and smaller leather loops fixed around the spindles of Billy's headboard. The loops around the spindles of Billy's headboard, Elijah sees, are padded. The loops of leather around Dom's wrists are not. Under other circumstances, Elijah would laugh.

Instead, his focus contracts again, narrows to Dom's wrists and the leather and Dom's sexy fucking forearms. He slides the tips of his fingers along the skin just above the leather. Dom's forearms tense and his hands (which look appealingly vulnerable and needy, groping at the spindles of Billy's headboard) spasm, then clench into tight, white-knuckled fists locked around wood.

Elijah wraps his hand around the short length of chain and pulls, watches Dom's body sway forward. Dom growls and twists his hands to capture Elijah's wrist, but Billy's is there, drawing Elijah's hand away. "Don't," he tells Dom. Or maybe he's talking to Elijah. He can't tell.

"Fuck you, Bill," Dom sneers, and Elijah sees that Dom is shivering or trembling or thrumming with tension.

Elijah watches the smile slide onto Billy's face, and it is amused and dangerous, and yes, menacing, again, and it still doesn't seem quite right because Billy is generous and gentle, but in another way it _is_ right because it isn't a new expression, the only thing new about it is Elijah's perception of it.

Billy meets and holds Dom's gaze for long moments, the little smile on his lips genuinely unsettling, like he knows something, knows how to unravel Dom, how to _prove_ he can unravel Dom.

He doesn't touch Dom, though. Instead, he firms his grip on Elijah's ribs and eases him further away from Dom, closer to the edge of the bed, so that Elijah can feel one of the carved posters biting into his back, cold and foreign. Billy doesn't look away from Dom as he does this, and Dom's sneer turns to frustrated agitation. "Fucker," Dom growls, but softly.

Billy presses Elijah back against the headboard, his hands hot on Elijah's chest. He guides one of Elijah's hands up to the bedpost, murmuring: "Hold on." Elijah is vaguely aware that Dom has gone very still and quiet, but his attention is really on Billy, because Billy is sliding his hands down Elijah's hips and hooking his fingers into the band of his boxers. Billy is tugging them down, and Billy's thumbs drag along the sharp angles of Elijah's hipbones as the fabric puddles around Elijah's knees. Billy makes a soft, pleased sound, and Elijah's hips - totally beyond the control of Elijah's brain - arch toward him.

Billy looks up at him, wicked green eyes that Elijah can feel traveling the length of his body, and his smile is equally wicked. "Billy," Elijah breathes, and he hears Dom echo Billy's name, and it's the most fabulously erotic thing Elijah has ever heard. Billy's hands are hot on Elijah's thighs, which shiver and tense. Elijah's heart stutters when Billy's tongue dips into his navel and then swirls downward through the dark hair beneath it. When Billy's tongue laps at the head of Elijah's cock, Elijah has to bite down on his lip to still a wail, but it still emerges as a trembling moan. Dom utters some sort of strangled sound that makes Elijah buck, and rather than move away, Billy merely shifts and opens.

"Fuck, fuck!" Elijah nearly screams, and the hand that isn't wrapped around the bedpost clutches at the headboard for purchase. It's hot, it's hot, and Billy's tongue ... He isn't going to last, not with Billy's mouth, _God, his mouth_ , and Elijah wants this not to be over more than anything he's ever wanted in his fucking life, but Billy's mouth feels just like his voice, just like his accent, all warm and soft and full of unexpected dips and rolls. He opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling, to try to pull it together, to try _anything_ to keep from coming undone thirty seconds into the best fucking blowjob of his life, and becomes aware that Dom is talking.

"Billy, fuck... jesus, just let me... Billy, no... Bill, Billy... goddamnyou, you fuck... I want..."

And Elijah really does know better than to look, but he _can't _not look, not with Dom's voice like that, ragged and desperate and needing, and every nerve in Elijah's body is tuned into that voice, his skin is burning and singing, and it's too late anyway, so he looks.__

 _Billy's hand is working urgently between Dom's thighs, and Dom has risen up to give him room, risen half to his knees and twisted so his shoulder is leaning against the headboard, and he is so close, so so near, and he is staring up into Elijah's face like he's dying and only Elijah can save him. He sees when Dom is going to come, sees it pass over his face like desperation and relief all at once, and Elijah discovers that he has enough control left over his body to drop his free hand into Dom's hair and fist it there, because he wants to be touching Dom when Dom comes._

 _But Dom doesn't, can't, because Billy's hand stills, wrapped around Dom but unmoving, and when Dom growls and pumps his hips, Billy lets go of him entirely._

 _"No," Dom whispers, his eyes huge and bright but completely unfocused, and his face twisted into an expression of pained desperation. "No, Bill, please... God..."_

 _ _Dom is begging_ , Elijah thinks sharply, and feels the tremors of impending climax begin in his thighs._

Dom rises to his knees and twists his bound hands downward, his intention clear, and without stopping, without even looking as far as Elijah can tell, Billy catches the chain and jerks it up, and Dom's hands follow the movement helplessly, and Dom cannot reach.

Dom _whines_.

The tremors in Elijah's thighs become shudders.

He wants ... wants, and his hand unclenches and slides out of Dom's hair, drops to rest on top of Billy's hand around the chain, and Billy knows, Billy understands, and lets go, and Elijah has the chain in his fist, and he tugs it up further, and Dom's helpless hands follow and clench together in front of Dom's chest, prayerful.

The jolt it gives Elijah is less powerful than the feel of Billy's slick, velvet tongue wrapped around him, but not by much. "Bill," Elijah breathes, "Bill, Billy..."

"Elijah," Dom whispers, and it tears at Elijah, and he feels himself bucking and at some point the hand wrapped around the poster of the bed has freed itself and tangled in Billy's hair without Elijah's knowledge or permission, but Billy isn't objecting, and Dom groans: "'Lijah, for God's sake, please..."

Billy's fingers bite into Elijah's hips and he lets out a little growl that feels like sin around Elijah's cock.

He cannot stop it, doesn't want to.

Billy's mouth is burning him and Dom, not just begging, but begging _him_ , Elijah's name on Dom's lips like a prayer, and Billy's fingers are bruising and demanding. "OhholyfuckingGod" falls from Elijah's lips in a trembling gasp. Dom's mouth is on Elijah's fingers wrapped around the chain, he is lapping at Elijah's fingers, quick swipes of hot tongue.

He wants to keep his eyes open, but he can't. His head falls back and his mouth falls open. He wants to scream, but he doesn't know if he actually does or not, because all sound is muted into nothing as his orgasm shudders through him, and he can feel nothing but Billy's mouth working exquisitely around him and the hot wetness of Dom's tongue on his fingers.

It feels eternal, and Elijah is happy, Elijah is replete.

He is only half-aware of Billy easing him down onto the bed, cool headboard against his back, crisp sheets beneath his splayed and boneless legs. Billy kisses his closed eyelids and eases away, and for the first time since he entered the room, he is alone, no one is touching him, and it _aches_.

The darkness behind his eyelids feels claustrophobic, it feels like loneliness, so he opens his eyes.

They are together, they are so close that they might as well be one person. Dom is arched and straining against Billy and Billy is kissing Dom as though kissing Dom is more important than anything, as if he needs to kiss Dom more than he needs _air_ , and Elijah suddenly feels exactly the same, air is fucking overrated anyway.

He thinks of Orlando's puzzled eyes, Orlando asking why not, and how Orlando had looked (puzzled, then startled, then horrified) when he had followed Elijah's gaze to where Billy and Dom were sitting, close to the fire, but not close to each other. "Not one of them," Orlando had whispered, tense and sympathetic all at once, and Elijah had merely shaken his head, no, no, it's not like that - and it wasn't, that had been true, it wasn't _one_ of them - and Orlando jumping to conclusions, murmuring reassurance in Elijah's ear, about how things like that took time, and Elijah would find someone, would have what _they_ had, and Elijah hadn't corrected him. Orlando had been sweet, had been understanding, and had not tried to convince Elijah that going home with him would be anything but friendly lust. He had not pushed, but had left Elijah with the clear understanding that he could come to Orlando, if he wanted to, and Orlando would make it good for him.

He watches Billy draw away from Dom, leave Dom gasping (and Elijah can relate, he is newly familiar with the devastation of Billy's mouth), and Billy turns slightly to look at Elijah. Billy's hand drops to his groin and he rubs himself through his jeans, long, easy, unselfconscious strokes while he gazes at Elijah through half-lidded eyes.

Billy is dangerous, Billy is fucking deadly-dangerous, and Elijah can't remember what it feels like to think of Billy as gentle and generous. "Do you want to fuck him?" Billy says abruptly, and a gasp of surprise escapes Elijah before he can trap it behind his lips. Billy smiles, still lazily stroking through his jeans. "Or do you want him to fuck you?" He knee walks over to Elijah while he is still fumbling to formulate a response, because all he can think is _yes, just... yes,_ and he's pretty sure that Billy is looking for something a little more specific. His hands close around Elijah's upper arms and pull him up to his knees as well.

Elijah darts a glance toward Dom, but Dom says nothing, just watches with darkly hungry eyes.

"Think you can fuck him without your hands, Dominic?" Billy says, and turns that look on Elijah, the look he has only observed up to this point, the level gaze, the arched brow.

Elijah suddenly understands why Dom does that, why Dom snipes at Billy and sneers, because that stare, Billy's eyes both hot and amused, that stare is Billy's natural fucking weapon, like a tiger's claws or a wolf's teeth.

"You _know_ I can," Dom growls and jerks his wrists a couple of times. "Give him to me, Bill."

Billy's eyes crinkle with humor, and he bends to murmur in Elijah's ear. "I _do_ know, Elijah."

"Fuck," Elijah says, unaware until its out that he means to say it out loud, and for the first time he feels like he's got some possibility of control, some element of power, and he turns his face and kisses Billy, and air really _is_ overrated. And Billy lets him, for a few long, sweet seconds. Billy's head falls back and his mouth opens under Elijah's, and when Elijah grabs Billy's hips and jerks him forward, Billy arches against him, denim trapped heat like steel against Elijah's hip.

Then Billy is pushing him away. Dom is laughing quietly, and says: "He's good at that."

"Yeah," Billy says, and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. Billy's hand has a slight, but noticeable tremor. Seeing it makes Elijah want to kiss him again, he starts forward to do it, but Billy stops him with a firm hand in the middle of Elijah's chest. "We knew he would be," he says to Dom, then turns back to look at Elijah. "That he'd have a... taste for it."

Before Elijah can think about that, Billy is pushing him toward the middle of the bed and thrusting him down on his back. Elijah hooks his fingers into the waist of Billy's jeans, his eyes locked on the straining outline beneath the denim. "Let me just ..." he says, and licks his lips. "Can I just... see?"

"Yeah," Dom echos agreement from somewhere above and to Elijah's right. Elijah follows the sound of Dom's voice with his gaze, and feels his eyes go wide, because at this angle, fuck, from this angle, he can see... everything.

Somewhere in the very furthest corner of his mind, he is thinking: _He's going to put_ that _where...?_ but the rest of his mind is unmindful of Dom's size or the insignificant fact that Elijah hasn't actually done that part before. The rest of his mind is caught up in heated impatience, and he reaches for Dom with the hand that isn't still gripping Billy's jeans, because he may not be what one would call experienced, exactly, but he isn't a complete novice either, and he knows full well what he wants to do with _that_.

Billy catches his hand, holds it, and Elijah finds himself glaring at Billy until Billy guides the hand down to join his other hand on Billy's jeans, and Billy says: "Look. Don't touch."

Elijah is fumbling with Billy's zip when he feels Dom slide down alongside him, and the warm slide of Dom's naked skin against his makes him fumble more. "Jesus," he grates out through clenched teeth, and the stubborn zip finally loosens, slides down. Billy isn't wearing anything under the jeans, and all it takes is a tug at the material to free him. Elijah can feel Dom pressed against his hip and there is Billy right in front of him, and he doesn't see how anyone could be expected to retain anything resembling any kind of self-control considering the situation, so he doesn't bother to try. He gets his hands under him and pushes up, and Billy doesn't move, which is as good as tacit permission as far as Elijah is concerned, and then Dom is moving, Dom is over him and pressing him back down, and Elijah is about half a second away from uttering some truly vile disparagements concerning Dom's lineage when Dom kisses him.

Elijah isn't prepared, even after Billy's heated kisses, he isn't ready for Dom's urgency, Dom's need. He wonders fleetingly how long Dom had been tied to the headboard before Elijah's arrival, but he doesn't have the brainpower to give it any true consideration, because Dom's lips are on his for only an instant before his tongue is pushing, demanding, and then thrusting heatedly into his mouth, forceful and seeking. Elijah meets it for a few moments, tries to wrest some kind of control, and he can feel himself writhing beneath the weight of Dom's body, can feel his hips arching up, and _fuck_ control ...

He just opens, lets Dom in, lets Dom take him, and Dom groans into his open, pliant mouth and Elijah whimpers. Dom shifts above him, and they are pressed together, Elijah is taut and tight with want, and he doesn't understand how it can be this much, how he can _need_ this much after his recent experience with Billy's mouth, but he does, he needs, and maybe it's Dom's need, and he is merely absorbing it or reflecting it, or something.

Everything is slick and heated skin, pressed against him full length. He feels surrounded and overwhelmed, he is aching, and above him Dom is practically vibrating. Dom releases his lips and attacks his neck, sharp teeth close on the big tendon there, and Elijah hears himself wail. Dom's knee is between his thighs, nudging, and Elijah pulls his legs up, feet flat on the sheets, and he can feel Dom's hips against the insides of his thighs, and that is good, so good, feels _right_ and he presses up and Dom groans and bites his collarbone.

Dom's hips raise up for a moment, and the loss of contact is painful, Elijah whimpers "No," but then they are back, hipbones sharp and perfect, and Elijah's cock is trapped between his own belly and the hard, flat expanse of Dom's so he hisses "Yesss," and hears Dom muttering 'fuck' repeatedly under his breath.

There is heat against his ass, nudging pressure, and Elijah's legs slide up by instinct, knees digging into Dom's ribs. "Oh, oh fuck, oh fuck," he hears, and realizes a moment later that it's his _own_ voice.

When Dom stills above him, he wants to scream with frustration. He opens his eyes, and Billy has his hand on Dom's hip, stopping him. "What the fuck, Bill," Elijah snarls, and Billy ignores him utterly.

"Let me get him ready," he says to Dom, and Dom opens his eyes and looks down at Elijah.

Dom looks drugged. It is achingly erotic. "Dommie," Elijah whispers and pushes up, hissing at the sweethot friction. Dom groans, hips thrusting forward slightly, increasing that _pressure_ , and Elijah hisses again.

"Easy, Dom," Billy murmurs, stroking a soothing hand down Dom's back. "He's not ready."

"He wants it," Dom says, deep voice, desire roughened.

His voice is enough to make all other concerns scatter from Elijah's brain, and he presses up again, head swimming and disconnected. Just, just forward, just hard...

"He can't take it," Billy says flatly, and Elijah opens his mouth to either assert that he _can_ , that he _wants to_ , or to scream, he doesn't know which, and Billy claps a hand over his mouth without even looking at him. "You don't want it to be that way, Dominic. Not his first time."

Dom looks away from Elijah, looks at Billy, and his eyes are slightly wide and questioning, but no longer have that drugged look. _Fuck_ , Elijah thinks, _Fucking god dammit, fuck fuck fuck! How the hell does he fucking know that?!_ Billy just gives a nod, and then that heated, nudging pressure is gone, and then the weight of Dom's body is gone, and Dom is raising up, Dom is on his knees above Elijah with his hands wrapped around the spindles of the headboard.

Elijah wails inarticulate protests behind Billy's hand and arches up, toward the heat of Dom's body. Billy releases Elijah's mouth to catch his hips in both hands and press them down. "I can," Elijah says as soon as his mouth is free. "I can, I want... Billy, please... Dom..."

"Fuck!" Dom groans from above him, the word choked and garbled. He shifts, spreading his knees, forcing Elijah's thighs wider, but stays up, stays out of reach. "Do it," he says, looking at Billy. "Before I come just listening to him beg for it."

Billy looks at Elijah, and long moments pass while Billy just looks. Elijah feels himself snarling back at Billy, and bites out: "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

He can hear the creaking of Dom pulling at the leather around his wrists again, and it sends shivery little flutters down his spine. For a second, he can feel leather around his own wrists, soft and hard, feel the frustration of being trapped, feel the thrill of it. His skin is buzzing at the lack of sensation, contact, and Billy is giving him that look, and smiling lazily. "I know what you're thinking," he tells Elijah.

"Fuck you, Billy," Elijah snaps, "Evil fucking bastard!" Above him, Dom utters hoarse laughter, heavy with lust.

Billy slides down beside them, his face level with Elijah's hip, his legs curled forward to touch Dom. He bites Elijah's hipbone, making him jerk, and then his fingers, slick and warm, slide up against him, and there is nudging pressure again, not as much, not as hot as Dom felt, but _there_ , and Elijah wants it. He lifts his hips, but Billy is teasing him, touching him, but not pressing forward.

"Why didn't you tell me," Dom says, and when Elijah looks at him, he is looking down, between their bodies, at what Billy is doing. Elijah thinks Dom is talking to _him_ and is preparing to grate out something to the effect of 'Do we have to discuss this right now?' when Dom says: "I could have hurt him."

"I did tell you," Billy says, and presses a little more, and Elijah gasps and mutters words that _he_ doesn't even recognize under his breath.

"Before," Dom growls, and it occurs to Elijah that if he lifts his upper body he can probably get his mouth on Dom's chest or neck, and that is a good idea, that is a fucking great idea. Dom looks down into Elijah's face and whispers: "Christ, Bill, hurry the fuck up!"

Elijah forgets about getting his mouth on Dom when he feels Billy's finger, slick and warm, press, press, and then slip inside. He hisses, hears Dom growl, and his belly tightens with heat. Billy's finger is inside, deep, and he hears himself make a little "Ungh!" sound, and his body tightens, tenses all over, and his hips rise up, levitate off of the mattress until Billy pushes against his hip to lower him back down.

It isn't that it hurts, although it does, but not quite. Elijah doesn't know. It almost hurts, but not exactly and his lust-addled mind doesn't seem to be able to make distinctions between "hurt" and "pressure" and "burn" and "stretch". He feels fresh sweat spring up all over his body, and he is suddenly glad, very fucking glad, fucking eternally grateful that Billy stopped Dom, because Dom is... well Dom is a hell of a lot bigger than Billy's finger.

"He's like a fucking vise," Billy murmurs, and Dom snarls something unintelligible. "Kiss him, Dom."

Dom's lips are just as hot, just as commanding, and Elijah doesn't bother with even a token defense this time, just opens his mouth and lets Dom invade him. Billy is stroking a calming hand along his thigh, and Dom is biting at Elijah's lips like he is starving to death, devouring Elijah's mouth like there is nothing else on earth he would rather be tasting. "Should have fucked you in New Zealand," Dom growls against Elijah's lips, and Elijah's reply, which was meant to be: 'Fuck me now!' is lost in Dom's ravenous mouth.

"Better," Billy says, and does something, twists his wrist and Elijah screams into Dom's mouth and bites down on Dom's lower lip hard enough to taste blood. Elijah's thighs spread wider of their own accord, and he hears Billy's low, throaty chuckle, and Dom doesn't seem to mind awfully about the biting, as he is biting Elijah back.

Dom's mouth slips away, and Elijah growls his name even as he feels Dom's lips latch firmly around a nipple. He arches, bucks, and is pretty sure that Billy is working a second finger into him, but it doesn't hurt, just pressure, and Elijah feels like he can't breath, like there isn't enough oxygen in the panting, ragged breaths he can hear himself taking. There is a big dark void hovering at the edges of his mind, and he is going to be extremely pissed off if he passes out and misses anything.

Then Billy does the thing again, the twisting thing, and he forgets everything except the resultant dizzy-hot pleasure that makes him arch and writhe and cry out wordlessly in need. He thinks he will come, he doesn't know how he survived twenty-one years on earth without _this_ , and then Billy's hand stops moving, is still, and the moment passes.

"Bill," Dom says, and there is both a pleading note and a warning note in his voice. "Don't..."

And Billy's fingers slide away, out. There is a moment when no one is touching him, and Elijah has time to wonder: _Why didn't he fuck me in New Zealand?_ and then Dom is pressing down on him again, and Billy has moved up and is biting at the place where Elijah's neck meets his jaw. Elijah has enough mental capacity for the moment to send a seeking hand down Billy's body and find him, capture his silky-steel length, and revel in the groan that Billy releases against Elijah's neck. Then Billy is easing Elijah's hand away, and Elijah thinks: _Why, why can't we touch_ you _, why are you still even wearing those fucking jeans?_ and then Dom is pressing against him again, and Elijah's breath catches in apprehension and anticipation. Dom is pressing, really pressing, it's purposeful, determined, and Elijah's thighs are singing and shivering with tension.

"Relax," Billy murmurs into his ear, and kisses his jaw. And to Dom: "You're next, Dominic."

Dom's eyes close, his hips shudder forward, and there is one moment of _ow, oh fuck!_ and Dom is in him, inside, just a little, but in, and Elijah's breaths are gasping little whines and he is vainly trying not to move and squirming anyway, and Dom is trembling and still above him.

"Relax," Billy murmurs again, lapping at his earlobe, and while Elijah can recognize the imminent sense of the advice, he's finding it difficult to apply. Billy seems to know this, like practically everything else, and he puts his lips close to Elijah's ear and begins to give a low-voiced, filthy monologue. "Dominic is topping you from the bottom, Elijah. Topping you from beneath _me_." Billy laps at Elijah's neck, bites lightly, and the shudders it sends though Elijah seem to ease some of the tension in his thighs and belly and his fists, which are clutching at handfuls of sheet. "Or he _will_ be, in a few minutes, and you should watch his face when I take him, Elijah. You'll never see anything more gorgeous than Dominic taking it."

Elijah moans (Billy should have to register his voice as a lethal weapon), his hips doing something by instinct, and Dom echoes the sound as he slides forward, deeper. "Fuck, yeah," he whispers, and Elijah wonders if Dom can hear what Billy is murmuring into Elijah's ear.

"Wait until you take _him_ , Elijah," Billy whispers. "He loves it, and when he moves under you it's so hot you can't breathe, so sweet and tight you could die." Billy slides a hand down his belly and closes his fist around him. "That's how you feel to _him_ , Elijah." He squeezes Elijah, whispers: "Narrow and clenching, and so fucking tight," and strokes, and Elijah whimpers and pushes up, and Dom chokes out curses as he sinks in, completely in, and there is no pain as Billy strokes him, and murmurs: "Move for him," into his ear.

Elijah does, Elijah couldn't stop it if he wanted to, and he does _not_ want to. He arches up, and Dom growls low in his throat and thrusts, and Dom's hips shift and when he pushes again Elijah feels his eyes go wide and his mouth fall open in shocked pleasure. "Yeah," Dom growls, fierce joy flashes on his face, and he dips to kiss Elijah violently.

He is unaware of time, it is forever, or it is only a few seconds, and Dom is thrusting and hard inside him and his hands are scratching uselessly at Dom's back, and he can feel Dom's muscles bunching and stretching beneath the skin there, and somehow that feels almost as good as Dom inside him, Dom pounding into him and growling his name mixed with obscenities and prayers. He doesn't notice that Billy has released his cock, doesn't notice that Billy is no longer lying stretched out at his side, he is absorbed in the heat of it, the thrust of Dom's body and Dom's tongue in his mouth, until Dom goes still again, inside him, still and trembling, his lips parted against Elijah's but still, his breath coming fast and hot against Elijah's mouth.

"Dom, please, fuck, please..." he whimpers, and forces his eyes open.

He sees Dom's face, lips slightly parted, a silent gasp, eyes wide and searingly open and beautiful, and he sees Billy behind Dom, and understands, and stills himself with what feels like heroic fucking effort. He can _see_ it, in his mind and on Dom's face, Dom's lips go slack, his head tips back and his eyes close. His lips are moving, but there is no sound. Elijah feels the sudden weight, the pressure, feels Dom arch forward. Dom's eyes snap open, shimmering and vulnerable, and he exhales a string of curses that sound like pleading. Then he is moving again, and Billy knows Dom's rhythm, too, and it is smooth, only a bit harder, more force, and Elijah is glad nothing is touching his dick, because the force of Dom's thrusts (extensions of Billy's thrusts) and the look on Dom's face is enough to send him spiraling toward climax without any added friction from that quarter. Behind Dom, Billy's head is tilted back, his fingers are digging deeply into Dom's hips, and Elijah would give anything _except_ what he has inside him, to see Billy thrusting into Dom, see his hips work and his body clench, to see Dom shuddering and thrusting back, and fuck oh fuck, they are beautiful.

"Billy," Dom grates out, and his teeth are clenched, and he is shuddering, his hips are working furiously, and Elijah wants him to come, wants to see it like he's never wanted anything else. "I... can't..."

He doesn't finish, can't, just thrusts harder, and Elijah watches his face transition, watches the needy, desperate concentration, a look that is almost pain, tilt, twist, then spin away, and sees the relief, the gratitude, the abandonment.

"Yes, Dommie, do it, yes," Elijah whispers, and then a hand, Billy's hand, and Elijah is thrusting into it with all of his attention, all of his strength, and Dom is moaning above him, and Elijah wants to wait for Billy, wants to at least _hear_ Billy, but all he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears and the sounds of his own cries tearing from his throat.

He is shaking, shuddering, shivering to pieces, and behind his eyelids all is white and clean and perfect. He can smell Dom, can smell Billy on Dom and on himself, and that is right, that is as it should be, and he feels like screaming and weeping and laughing all at once, and even then, even in the joy and the high of it, he is afraid it will never be like this again.

When it is done, when _he_ is done, he is aware of Dom's weight on him, which doesn't feel as heavy as Elijah thinks it probably should, especially because Billy is... well, Billy is somewhere, Elijah can hear him breathing, panting, Billy came sometime during Elijah's climax, and Elijah missed it, and it is like a needle in his chest, in his heart, and he turns away from it, and when the thoughts flash across his mind _there could be another chance, this doesn't have to be the end of it_ he turns them away, because they are too much like hope, and hope is dangerous, and not in the good way that Billy's tiger-stare is dangerous.

The silence goes on for so long that he wonders if one or both of them has fallen asleep. He feels sure that he won't sleep for days. His mind is whirling, and he feels both elated and fearful of the inevitable crash. He doesn't want to think but he can't help it.

Will he be able to survive this? Not the sex, not that, but everything else. Sleeping alone in his bed, living here, with them, seeing them. Seeing them _look_ at each other, Dom sneering, Billy's dark amusement. _Now what?_ he wonders, and there is an edge of panic to it. _Now what, nowwhatnowwhatnowwhat?_

Dom's weight shifts on top of him and he opens his eyes. Dom is looking at him. He is propped up with his elbows on either side of Elijah's head, because his wrists are still attached to the headboard. Dom's eyes are shimmering silver in the gloom. "Billy, -" he says in a near whisper, like they are conspirators exchanging important information, " - bottoms standing up." He grins at Elijah's expression, and kisses him on the eyebrow. "Strange but true, mate. You can bend him over almost anything."

"I can hear you, you know," Billy says from somewhere below them, out of line of sight. He is trying to sound irritable, but Elijah can tell by his voice that he's smiling.

It surprises a snicker out of Elijah. Dom grins wider, and says a bit louder: "I think he's laughing at you, Bill."

"I'm not particularly worried about being laughed at by mister 'harder, jesus, fuck me fuck me, ohholyfuckingchrist,'" Billy says, and sits up. He is flushed and smiling, and still wearing his jeans. Elijah isn't quite sure why this should be so funny, but it is, and his snickers evolve into giggles. Billy cocks a brow at him (non-menacing, Elijah notes) and announces: "You're going to hell, Elwood." He moves up beside Dom and does something to the leather around his wrists, and Dom sits up, rubbing lightly at his skin. He is nodding his agreement with Billy's prediction. "You've got a dirty mouth," Billy says, and kisses Elijah lightly on his dirty mouth.

Elijah gawks at him, choking on laughter.

"I thought he was such a nice young man," Dom says in aggrieved tones. Dom and Billy exchange a look of solemn dismay.

"Fuck you guys," Elijah laughs, and the fear has dwindled to a distant corner of his mind. Dom is swiping at him with a damp cloth and Billy is shucking his jeans. Elijah is smiling. He never wants to stop. _God, please ..._ he thinks.

"Here," Billy says, and hands Elijah his cigarettes and lighter. He doesn't know how they got here, and he isn't going to ask. He is absurdly touched that one of them even thought about them.

When he reaches to take them, Elijah sees that his hands are shaking. He pulls them back quickly, but Billy sees, too.

"Elijah," Billy says, and pulls Elijah up against him. Dom is there, too, abruptly, pressed up against the other side of him, kissing his shoulder.

"Should have told me he was still a virgin," Dom says, running soothing hands up and down Elijah's arms. He sounds worried. "I'm sorry, 'Lijah. Are you all right?"

"I should have," Billy agrees, giving Dom a nod that is an apology, and kisses Elijah's forehead. His lips are warm and soothing. "I thought he would take care of it himself, in his own time, but ..."

"I thought he _had_ ," Dom said indignantly. "I thought that was why, tonight ... I thought he finally ..." Billy shakes his head, once, quick, and slides his cheek into Elijah's hair. "Jesus, Bill!" Dom exclaims, and his arms tighten around Elijah protectively. "We waited all this time, you couldn't wait until he ...?"

 _Waited all this time,_ repeats itself in Elijah's mind, Dom's voice, resonant with indignance and impatience.

Billy speaks into Elijah's hair. "He wouldn't..." He pulls back to look at Elijah. He looks as gentle and generous as he ever did. "He wasn't going to," he says softly. "I wasn't sure until tonight, at the beach. I thought he was just being careful, being choosy... but, Orlando..."

Heat rushes into Elijah's cheeks, and he turns his face into Dom's chest. "Orlando what?" Dom asks, flat and soft.

"He didn't do anything," Billy says, a little exasperated. "He didn't do anything but be himself, Dommie, and 'Lij had the chance, and if he was just waiting for someone he could trust, who better than Orlando? But he didn't. That wasn't what he was waiting for."

"Oh," Dom says, and it sounds like he might be smiling.

"I don't want Orlando," Elijah manages, speaking into Dom's chest. Elijah's heart is pounding. Dom's heart is pounding, too. Elijah reaches out, fumbling until he can feel Billy's heartbeat under his palm. It is pounding.

"I know, Elijah," Billy says softly. He nudges gentle fingers under Elijah's chin and guides Elijah's face toward him. He runs his hands over Elijah's shoulders, which are tense and hunched up protectively, then slides a hand over Elijah's hand still resting on his chest, and holds it there.

Dom's arms tighten around Elijah, and he breathes: "Fuck. Finally!" He drops little kisses onto the back of Elijah's neck, wet and smacking, and Elijah relaxes a fraction with each of them in spite of himself. A smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth. Billy is smiling, his eyes are nearly glowing in the dimness, and the relief is vast and sweet, and it is easy to let the rest go.

Finally.


	7. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the seventh part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is an aside to the main story that was written as part of a challenge (I no longer remember which one). I have several of these side stories, and when I started uploading I decided I'd fit them in as closely as I could to where they began. If you don't give a rat's ass about the side stories, only read the chapters that start with a "C" and you should be good. =)

I'm some sort of fucked up Elijah junkie. I catch myself rubbing my palms against the sheets, trying to still the tingle that still lingers there. I stop, because I'm afraid it might work. I curl my hands into fists instead. Not clenched fists, just closed fists. Holding fists.

Christ, I'm so pathetic.

I don't want to think about it, so I drag my pillow out from under my head and curl up around it. It doesn't help, as such, and I know I'm going to think, going to remember, going to practically fucking relive it, because ... well, because I'm some sort of fucked up Elijah junkie.

I laugh and it sounds jagged.

I open my eyes and push my tingling hands into my hair. Longish, now, though not as long as it had been while filming Pirates. My hair is coarse and springy, and I can feel it twining around my fingers, but it doesn't banish that tingle.

I shouldn't have. I should have left Elijah sitting by the bonfire, introspective and silent, but he had looked so fucking lonely. I shouldn't have nudged him in the ribs, just to see him grin up into my face. I shouldn't have liked that so much that I resorted to tickling.

I can feel him squirming under my hands.

But he had been drunk and giggly, and I had been at least half-pissed.

Temptation and all. And he hadn't actually resisted when I had pulled him away from the fire and away from the light.

My hands curl, as if around slender wrists, and I mutter a curse into my pillow.

I kissed him, really kissed him. His lips were soft and hard at once under mine, and he had hesitated only for a moment when I slid my tongue against them.

I remember fierce triumph mixed with gratitude.

His mouth had tasted of beer and something harder, possibly bourbon, and also of Elijah. The skin beneath his shirt had been warm and sleek, and I had felt how his muscles moved under his skin. I had felt the tension flood into him, too.

I remember lying to myself, I remember jumbled words in my mind attributing his sudden stiffness to nervousness.

But I have never been stupid, and I have never been blind, and I had known that he wanted me to stop then. I hadn't managed to, not quite then. There was that place I had always wanted to touch him, the hollow of his throat. I had always wanted to press fingertips or tongue to it, to feel the skin there, to feel the pulse there, in the tender place where his collar bones almost met.

 

I felt the tension under my hands, and I knew there would never be another chance to touch him. So I let my hands roam, let them take as much as they could in whatever brief moments he would let me have. I let go of the feel of his lips against mine (knowing it would end, knowing he would speak and end it) and pressed my mouth to his tender throat. Felt his pulse, rabbit-quick, against my lips, my tongue. Mouthed silent words (he did not want to hear them anyway) and tucked them there, into that hollow.

When his hands clutched at my shoulders, burning me with cold, and he whispered: "Don't, Orlando," I stopped.

I couldn't quite let go as I murmured a: "Why not?" that I knew he wouldn't answer.

He didn't mean to answer, but I saw his eyes, I saw where he looked, and I saw the want. It was an ugly burst of knowledge, an understanding fully formed in my brain.

Dom and Billy, sitting by the dying fire. Dom and Billy, not together, but _together_ , everyone knew that. And old want in Elijah's eyes. Not new, but old, shadowed with pain and disappointment and wreathed in cobwebs of bitter acceptance.

And I knew, I understood, and I also knew that he would not want me to. He was holding onto that want, gripping it like I was gripping him, and he wouldn't want to share it with me, even by accident. I could feel him trembling against me.

I said something disarming, something like: "Not one of them," and watched him shaking his head, murmuring that it wasn't like that.

I knew it wasn't. I knew what it was like. I knew that it was not _one_ of them.

So I lied, and held him like he needed me to, like a friend, murmuring the stupid nonsense of comfort words and letting him think I didn't understand, didn't see what he wanted. Let him think I had seen something other than what I had seen. I had given him an open-ended invitation, and I had meant it, but I had done it mostly because he would have known something was wrong if I hadn't.

I had kissed his hair while we walked back to the fire, and tried to memorize the way it slid against my lips, tickling and silky.

I press my lips together, lick them. Cup my palms and feel him there.

Ghost Elijah.

If I close my eyes, I could see the light from the bonfire flickering on Billy's face again. I could see his surprise, though it is a subtle expression.

Most of Billy's expressions are like that. Subtle, with layers. But this expression had not been quite as subtle as the normal for Billy, and I think that it was an indication of the depth of the emotion.

If Elijah had looked at Billy then, he might have learned something. He hadn't, though. He had flopped onto the sand next to Dom, boneless grace, and nicked Dom's beer from Dom's unresisting hands.

I had looked at Billy, though, and Billy had looked at me. And I saw Billy understand the same way I had, all at once, epiphany. Saw him bend his face down, to hide his expression. If I had been able to see his face, would it have been triumph and gratitude, like me? He hadn't shown me, but I hadn't really wanted to see anyway. When he looked up again, he looked the same as always, like Billy, except for maybe a trace of pity around the eyes.

I had gone then, just slipped off into the dark without saying goodbye.

It had seemed prudent. Or it had seemed like escape. Or both.

And now Ghost Elijah is on my skin, tingling in my palms, and I can feel him against my lips, the tickle of his hair, the wet warmth of his open lips, the secret hollow at the base of his throat. It's all still there, and I can touch him in my mind and feel it with my skin.

But I can never really touch _Elijah_ again.

Only Ghost Elijah.

And I wonder how long he will stay.


	8. Calibration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the eighth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

Air on either side is foreign and unwelcome. He fumbles in the yawning space, a little groan in his throat as he seeks to pull warmth back to him, hands pawing air, fingertips grazing still-warm sheets. He doesn't remember which of them had been on that side. He doesn't care. He wants him back. He wants them back.

When a body presses against him from behind, he gives up seeking and burrows into that warmth instead. The chest against his lips and tongue smells and tastes of all three of them. He thinks it smells the most like Dominic.

 

***

 

He feels Elijah twist, and opens his eyes to see Elijah's uncertain hands seeking in the space Billy no longer occupies. He presses against Elijah's back to soothe, to soften the stiffness of Elijah's spine, and to still the needy, searching crawl of Elijah's fingers scrabbling for Billy's body heat.

Elijah turns and wriggles in closer than should be possible. Elijah's hands curl around his ribs, pressing fingers into the even spaces between them. Elijah rubs his face against him like a cat, and his tongue licks at his chest softly, tasting, as if to verify, to recall, to discern.

 

***

 

He has bound things in pairs: eyes, hands, and DominicElijah.

Elijah is bolder without sight, lips and tongue tracing symbols onto Dominic's body that have significance only to Elijah. Dominic is gentler without touch, head bent, cheek against Elijah's hair, body curved to surround Elijah offering the solace and protection of proximity.

Without the soft cloth binding Elijah's eyes, he would have looked and wanted, but would not have taken.

Without the rough leather binding Dominic's wrists, he would have grasped and stroked, but would not have comforted.

He likes to take away the things they need.

Including himself, sometimes.


	9. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the ninth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

Elijah felt sneaky just walking down the hallway.

 _Don't be stupid_ , he thought. He wasn't being _sneaky_ , exactly. It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong.

He just didn't want Dom to wake up. Not yet.

Billy was at the sink rinsing something when Elijah stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. Billy was dressed in a pair of Dom's yoga pants, which were charmingly low-slung and slightly too long, bunching up a little where they met the floor. His hair was sticking up in a cowlick at the back.

He watched Billy rub at the back of his neck, then rake his fingers through his hair, which just made it stick up more. A smile tugged at his lips in spite of the nervous clenching in his belly.

"Morning, sunshine," Billy said without turning around. "I've started the countdown to caffeine, it'll be ready in a bit."

Elijah glanced at the burbling coffeemaker on the counter. He usually got it ready to go at night before going to bed so he only had to push a button in the morning, when his eyelids were still practically sticking together with sleep and there was no guarantee that he'd remember how to make a decent pot. It was usually his first target, but this time he dismissed it as unimportant. For the moment anyway. Depending on how this went, he might _really_ need it later. Or, conversely, he might not need it at all. He might skip coffee altogether, and go straight for the bottle in the freezer.

"How'd you know to start it?" Elijah asked. Stalling, but genuinely curious.

Billy laughed, hands busy in the sink. "I heard you trying to extricate yourself from Dom. A bit grabby when he's sleeping, isn't he?"

 _Over the water running_? Elijah wondered. But he only said: "Yeah," and bit his lip. Now that he was standing here and it was just the two of them, he wasn't sure he could do this. It wasn't that he was afraid, exactly (although he was, he was fucking terrified); it was more that he wasn't sure he _wanted to_ do it.

So he had some unsettling fucking suspicions, so what? This was… this was the best he was likely to get. This was what he fucking wanted, and if it wasn't perfect, well so what? Wasn't it better than not having it at all? Wasn't it worth it? Because if he couldn't have this, he couldn't have anything. And he didn't even want to fucking imagine that. Not anymore.

It didn't help that he found Billy nearly irresistible in the morning.

Not that Billy wasn't nearly irresistible all the time, but he was even more irresistible in the mornings. Cute. Domestic, almost. He watched Billy bend and open the dishwasher. The mugs from last night's apple cider -- Dom knew how to take bottled apple cider and transform it into a hedonistically spicy-warm blend of alcohol and bliss -- went from sink to Billy's hands to the top rack of the dishwasher. He wished Billy's bare back didn't look quite so fucking good when he bent like that, twisted slightly to one side. It was only worse (better) when Billy bent further, knee cocked, to slide the bottom rack of the dishwasher into the machine and flick the soap thingy lid open.

It made Elijah's already uncertain determination wobble even more precariously.

 _Get a grip, Wood_ , he snapped mentally, and looked away. _Focus. This is fucking important_.

And it was. It was important. But…

But things were different by the light of day. Things were different when Elijah was looking at Billy rummaging around under the sink for the dishwashing soap, feeling that warm, gentle wave of fondness in his chest mixing with the sharp, dizzying want that had taken up permanent residence in his groin. Things were perfect, and in a few seconds Billy would finish with the dishes and come over to where Elijah was standing and stalling and slide a hand around Elijah's hip and kiss him (probably somewhere unusual, like his collarbone or his left nipple). Billy would smell really good even though he hadn't showered yet, like sleep and sweat and sex and _Billy_ , and Elijah would forget what he wanted to talk about. Or even if he didn't, his mouth would go too dry to formulate anything coherent.

And he'd forget all day, because forgetting was easy, and during the day things were so good. They'd laugh and tease each other, Dom would cook lunch (not because Billy and Elijah were necessarily bad cooks -- okay, not because _Billy_ was a bad cook -- but because Dom was a _great_ cook) and they'd go surfing or shopping, or maybe they'd just watch movies, all three of them sprawled out on the couch with various body parts overlapping, and things would be fucking great.

It wouldn't be until they had all ended up in bed in a haphazard pile that Elijah would remember. Because the pile wasn't actually all that haphazard.

"Hey," Elijah managed, only a little hoarsely. "Can I talk to you?"

Billy paused in his rummaging and glanced over his shoulder at Elijah. Then he glanced over at the coffeemaker and frowned a little. Then back to Elijah. He stood up and shut the cupboard door. "What's wrong?"

Elijah hadn't bothered to prepare a speech. There was no point to it; he knew that once he actually tried to articulate what was wrong, it would either come or it wouldn't. Preparing a speech was too much like acting, and acting was too much like lying. "Look. I think… I mean, I won't hold it against you if you want to back out of this now."

Billy just looked at him, brows drawn together in a slight frown. "I'm not getting you, Elijah. Back out of what?"

"This," Elijah said, waving a hand toward Billy and then himself, turning a little to motion toward the hall to include Dom in the gesture, but he was pretty sure by the complete lack of comprehension on Billy's face that it hadn't really worked. "This thing… The three of us. I'll understand if you and Dom just want to… if you want me to… if you want it to be just the two of you. Again. I'll understand."

Billy took a step forward so quickly that Elijah started, and Billy stopped immediately, his frown deepening.

He didn't say anything for so long that Elijah felt compelled to fill the silence with inane babbling. Which he proceeded to do quite handily. "Look, I… it'll be okay. I won't freak out or anything, and I won't be angry. I… I'll understand. I won't get in the way. I… I can move out, or…"

"What…?" Billy interrupted loudly, sharp and abrupt, and Elijah only barely managed not to jump when Billy took a step closer this time. Billy raked a hand through his hair, his frown unwavering, but his eyes were strange; not happy-sparkling Billy eyes and not flat-unreadable Billy eyes and not dark-smoldering Billy eyes, but something else. Bleak-wary Billy eyes? Billy didn't have bleak-wary eyes. Not that Elijah had ever seen. "What…?" Billy started again, but then he stopped, paused to rake both hands through his hair, and inexplicably, he turned to look at the coffeemaker again. He looked back at Elijah with his unfamiliar eyes, and Elijah didn't know what to say. "What are you on about, Elijah?" he finally finished, and his voice was pitched low and stretched tight and hard.

Trying to say something that was going to cover everything was impossible, but Elijah tried anyhow. "I know you'd do anything for him," he said, and he couldn't quite hold Billy's gaze now that his eyes had gone so strange, so he looked at Billy's feet instead. His right hand found the back of one of the kitchen chairs, cool, painted wood and blunt corners, and he curled his sweaty hand around it. "I understand, and I love it that you would… that you'd try, but I don't want… things will get…" _weird, resentful, painful, more agonizing than this fucking minute_ "…some day you might hate me, and I couldn't handle that." He glanced up quickly, but Billy's expression (eyes) hadn't changed or shifted, so he looked back at Billy's feet, just pale toes poking out of the bottoms of Dom's yoga pants. His heart was hammering away inside his chest, and not in the good way he'd become familiar with over the past few days. His mouth was dry and sour. The words tasted wrong in his mouth, felt wrong in his throat, but… "I don't want to be the one to wreck what the two of you have, Billy. I'd hate myself for it."

God, what the fuck was with the long, painful silences? He stole a glance at Billy -- no change in expression, except maybe the frown had deepened slightly -- and tried not to fidget or twitch. Couldn't this just be over now? Wasn't this enough? It was fucking hard enough without having to wade through this mire of utter stillness, and his chest already felt like it was too heavy to let enough air into his lungs, and if Billy didn't say something in about three seconds, Elijah was going to bolt. He could feel it coming, could feel his muscles tensing and bunching with the need to flee, and for God's sake, why the hell did Billy have to make it so fucking _hard_? He curled his hand tighter around the back of the chair like it was an anchor, like it might somehow keep him from running, or flying to pieces, like it could hold back the thick press of what felt like grief in the back of his throat.

 _Doing the right thing_ , he thought, and felt bitter laughter skirting his tongue. He bit down on it hard, and didn't make a sound.

"I don't understand," Billy said, and Elijah looked up from Billy's feet to Billy's face, because his voice sounded funny. Husky. Billy was looking at the coffeemaker again -- _what the hell?_ \-- and his hands were curled into fists at his sides. "Try _what_?" Billy dragged his gaze away from the coffeemaker with what looked like real effort -- the tendon running along the side of his neck was standing out in sharp relief, shifting tautly when he turned his head -- and his eyes fell on Elijah heavily, his gaze weighted. They were less green than Elijah had ever seen them, almost grey, and Billy's lips were set into a thin line, deepening the lines around his mouth that were normally only in evidence when Billy was laughing. "What… why are you doing this?" It was almost a whisper.

"I don't want to be your gift to Dom, Billy," Elijah managed, and that was nearly a whisper, too. What the hell had happened to his voice?

Billy closed his eyes, his face going perfectly blank. It felt a bit like a kick in the balls, and Elijah looked away again, looked at his own hand gripping the back of the chair, white-knuckled. He could hear Billy breathing, extremely even, in-out-in-out, almost metered. He swallowed several times, trying to clear his throat enough to say something -- anything -- to reassure Billy that it was okay, that _they_ were okay, but he couldn't quite manage it.

He wasn't fucking okay.

But he wasn't going to break, either.

He didn't hear Billy coming (bare feet on tile), but suddenly Billy was only inches away from him, and he turned to look before he could stop himself, though he was aware enough to throw something up onto his face, something that simply had to be less ragged than what he was actually feeling.

Billy was looking at him fixedly, intensely, his eyes searching Elijah's face from six inches away like he hoped to find something particular there. Elijah didn't know what, wasn't even all that curious at the moment. He just wanted to get the hell out of here now. Just go before he lost his hold on the mostly impassive expression he was displaying.

"That's what you think?" Billy whispered, and Elijah could feel Billy's breath on his cheek, and he'd been right, Billy smelled great. "You think… you… that _Dom_ is the only reason we…" Billy shook his head once, sharply. "Why? Fuck's sake, Elijah, _why_?"

"Uh…" Elijah said. He was thoroughly distracted by the way Billy smelled and the way Billy was looking at him, and by the way Billy's hand had curled around Elijah's wrist, firm and warm and strong. "You… uh…" He looked away from Billy's face and shook his head a little, trying to think. "You don't… we don't, uhhh…" _Dammit, spit it out, Elijah, you fuckwit._ "You haven't ever…" _Shit!_ "Dom and I do it. You and Dom do it. But… you don't… you haven't… with me. I… you… it's always you and Dom."

Billy said nothing for a moment -- and no wonder, Elijah fucking sounded like an adolescent idiot, "do it" for God's sake -- and Elijah could hear his breathing again, and it was unsettling, the way it was so perfectly timed, like he was doing it on purpose. Elijah snuck another glance at Billy's face, and… _Huh?_

"You think I don't want you because I haven't fucked you yet?" Billy said, slowly and softly, like he was articulating carefully. "You think this is about what Dom wants because I haven't fucked you yet?" Billy's eyes glittered fiercely. Elijah couldn't quite force himself to look away.

"It's been three days," Elijah croaked, and whoa, his voice sounded awful, like he was talking through gravel and silt. "It's not like you haven't had the chance." And he was starting to feel a little angry, too, which wasn't something he'd anticipated. He'd been feeling too much like he was about to lose everything that fucking mattered to be angry, but Billy's glittering eyes and careful articulation were getting on his last fucking nerve. "Dom is going to notice eventually, and then we're all fucked."

And there was another of those endless fucking silences, occupied by nothing but the sounds of their breathing. The slow and methodical sound of Billy breathing was getting on his nerves as well, which just spoke fucking volumes about how screwed up he was, Elijah was pretty sure, and maybe he'd have his agent call Oprah or Dr. Phil or some shit and book him a show. Better yet, he could do Springer. He and Billy could duke it out on stage and get manhandled by the security guys; entertainment for the fucking masses.

"Dom notices everything," Billy said finally. "Dom noticed the first night, Elijah. Dom asked me why the first night."

Oh.

 _Then what…?_

He didn't get a chance to ask. One minute he was standing by the table, chair-back gripped too tightly in one hand, and the next he was against the wall. His grip on the chair had been enough to send it clattering over onto its side before he'd let go, and it was loud as hell in the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the open space, but he barely registered that as background noise because suddenly the sound of Billy's breathing was very loud, very close, right on top of him, in fact, warm against Elijah's lips. It wasn't even, either. It was short and fast and aggressive, as was Billy's thigh pushing between both of Elijah's. He didn't resist -- he felt too dazed to do much of anything but slump against the wall and stare at Billy's eyes, two inches away and brilliantly green, now, sharp and glittering and boring into him -- until their hips were pressed tightly together, and Elijah's cock was yammering at him that perhaps, possibly, _maybe_ , he'd been mistaken.

He felt like he was floundering (internally, because externally he was pinned neatly against the kitchen wall with no limbs available for floundering), reeling a little, until Billy whispered his name.

"Elijah. Elijah, you twat." _Hey!_ Elijah thought, but he was distracted from both indignance and the rising swell of relief (lovelustjoy) that was threatening to steal his breath by the sudden roll of Billy's hips against his, by the very obvious feel of Billy's erection grinding against his own. "Elijah, I fucking _want_ you." It was a low, thick growl, and Billy's voice like that was fucking amazing, like it had hooks and they were sunk deeply into Elijah's balls and belly, twisting and urgent. "I've wanted you for fucking _years_." And for a moment, he said nothing else, just looked at Elijah and rocked into him, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark. His wrists, Elijah noticed, were trapped in Billy's hands and pinned to the wall hard enough to make them ache.

"Then why?" Elijah demanded, or rather, tried to demand, but actually sort of whispered shakily. He arched back, pressed hard against Billy's imprisoning hips, and Billy hissed and pushed harder, pushed until Elijah groaned with a combination of brighthot pleasure and almost pain. Billy's hands tightened around his wrists, tightened and pressed them back harder into the wall, and then Billy was kissing him and Elijah wasn't quite processing things right, couldn't be, because he just wantedwantedwanted, and the unyielding bite of the wall against his wrists seemed unimportant, a muted counterpoint to the feel of Billy's lips and tongue working Elijah's mouth open, stealing Elijah's breath right out of his lungs. The hard grind of Billy's cock against Elijah's was almost too hard, hovering somewhere between intense pleasure and low, dull pain, but when Billy pulled back Elijah whined and arched forward again, already missing it.

"Because," Billy snarled finally, while Elijah panted and gulped against Billy's shoulder. "Because I can't fucking see straight when I think about it." He pulled back completely, save for his hands around Elijah's wrists, still pressed up against the wall and preventing Elijah from arching back into full contact. "Because I feel like I'm on a tightrope just being in the same fucking _bed_ with you while _Dom_ fucks you, Elijah."

"You aren't making any sense," Elijah panted. He arched uselessly, but Billy was too far away. "I don't understand."

Billy didn't say anything. He just watched Elijah, held him against the fucking wall and watched him, and Elijah wasn't having any fucking trouble reading the want there, now. It was driving him out of his mind, in fact.

"Billy, fuck!" he snapped, and twisted his wrists in Billy's hands.

Billy sighed. "I know you don't understand. I know you don't, Elijah." His voice was careful and gentle. He released Elijah's wrists, but didn't move away; he didn't try to stop Elijah from surging up against him, winding arms around his neck and kissing him urgently again, either. When Elijah arched against him (his fucking cock felt like a heat-seeking-missile, and Billy was definitely the hottest thing in the immediate vicinity), though, Billy's hands curled around Elijah's hipbones, holding him at bay. "Don't," Billy murmured gruffly.

Elijah growled softly in frustration, and then nearly shrieked aloud when warm hands circled around his waist from behind.

"Inconsiderate bastards," Dom rumbled against the back of Elijah's neck. "Can't bloody sleep with you cunts slamming shite around in here." But Dom's hand was sliding down across a hipbone to curve warmly around Elijah's cock through his pajama bottoms, and Elijah didn't think he was really mad.

"Morning, Dom," Billy said, and his voice was still that low, grating rumble, and it was weird how that sounded, completely different from Billy's normal voice, but so familiar at the same time, so absolutely correct for Billy. It was also weird being smooshed between the two of them, the warm press of their bodies pinning him between them in a way that should probably be uncomfortable, but simply wasn't. It was still new, though, still unusual enough to make Elijah's skin itch a little, buzz with energy and interest.

"Hey, Bills," Dom replied, chest vibrating against Elijah's back, lips moving against Elijah's neck. "What's up?"

"Elijah thinks I don't want him," Billy said evenly. His eyes were still fixed on Elijah's face, no longer unsettlingly unfamiliar, but still very intent. "He thinks he's with us solely for _your_ benefit." Elijah felt Dom stiffen and start a little behind him, a weird little jerk that would probably be pretty difficult to fake. Then he felt guilty for even thinking that. "He thinks --" Billy murmured, and used his hands on Elijah's hips to pull Elijah close again, so that Dom's palm curled around Elijah's cock was suddenly much firmer, and Billy's cock had to be pressed warmly against the backs of Dom's fingers. Abruptly, breathing was quite a bit more difficult, and Elijah bit down on the inside of his cheek to avoid letting out the moan that was swelling in his throat. "-- that the fact that I haven't fucked him means that he's like... a present. For you."

"I…" he said, but then Dom's hand -- the one not currently occupied with Elijah's cock -- was abruptly covering Elijah's mouth. Elijah could feel how wide his eyes were, and even more interestingly, he could see Billy seeing it, could see the way Billy's eyes shifted, could almost see the actual instant when they changed from appraisal to stormy-dark desire. And even Dom hadn't ever looked at Elijah quite like that. Maybe no one had, ever; maybe it wasn't even possible, maybe that was a Billy-exclusive look. And, God, he had been wanting that look.

"Let Billy talk, Elijah," Dom whispered, his voice a coarse husk of sound against Elijah's neck.

 _Yeah, okay, right_ , Elijah thought a little dizzily. _Don't interrupt Billy, I got it_. He was hyper-aware of Dom pressed along his back, and more specifically, of Dom's erection comfortably wedged against his ass by the pressure Billy was exerting with his hips. Dom's breathing had gone harsh, not really fast but weirdly loud, but he was solid and still behind Elijah, like support, and truthfully Elijah needed the support. There was an unexpected weight to the way Billy was looking at him, a sort of inexorable _compulsion_ that Elijah hadn't ever really felt. He'd seen it before, though. He had seen the way he was feeling burning and raging on Dom's face, and he recognized it. He hadn't ever been directly under it like this, though, and it was immense and heavy, pushing him back against Dom's steadiness. _Okay_ , Elijah thought. _Okay, yeah, I admit it. I don't understand_. But his mouth was too dry to actually say it, and besides that, if he said it, Billy might… well, he might _stop_.

And he really fucking needed Billy not to stop.

"What do you think?" Billy asked, still looking at Elijah (but he was fairly sure Billy was talking to Dom). Billy's hands tightened on Elijah's hips, fingertips biting into him, and he could feel his skin wanting to shiver off his body at the fucking _look_ on Billy's face. He remembered thinking that Billy was dangerous, remembered thinking it for the first time, and that look was exactly why. That look made Elijah sweat with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. "God, I could fucking tear him apart, just fucking take him over." He said it through almost-clenched teeth; the muscles in his jaw flexed, like he was biting at the words.

Elijah shuddered ( _yes, please_ ), and squirmed just enough to make Billy tighten his grip on Elijah's hips even further, and yeah, that was fucking _great_. "Mmmph," he said behind Dom's hand. "Mmmph."

"Do you think that's a good idea, Bills?" Dom asked, oddly gentle. That tone coming from Dom -- whom, Elijah's brain reminded him, was usually growling obscenities by now -- sent a jolt of nerves through Elijah, momentarily clearing some of the lust-haze from his mind. As if Dom sensed that, he pressed a light kiss against the side of Elijah's neck. Billy said nothing, just continued to stare, and Elijah couldn't match his gaze; it was too intense, too nerve-wracking. He closed his eyes, but it still felt like he could feel Billy staring at him, so he turned his face, too, and let his cheek rest against Dom's shoulder. Billy let out a little growl, and Dom's hand over his mouth shifted a little, guiding Elijah's face back around until he could feel Billy's eyes boring into his eyelids again. "I know you can't help it," Dom said quietly, "but try not to do that right now."

 _Do what_? Elijah wondered, and then Dom's hand was sliding away from his mouth, replaced so quickly with Billy's mouth that he forgot about asking. There was nothing confusing about Billy's mouth, or the way it overwhelmed Elijah every time, even after three days of being allowed to do this. Elijah's hands were finally doing something as well, traveling up the hard slope of Billy's stomach until they encountered hair. He wasn't thinking, didn't make a conscious choice to curl his fingertips into it, to pull. He wasn't even aware that he had done so until Billy stiffened (his hips slammed forward hard), snarling into Elijah's mouth, and bit down really fucking _hard_ on his tongue. He wasn't thinking when he bit Billy back, either.

Billy jerked away so quickly Elijah would have reeled if Dom hadn't been there, and for a moment Elijah had no idea what had just happened. He lunged after Billy, mind and mouth and hands still tingling with warmth at the feel of him, but Billy stopped him with a hand in the middle of his chest, face peculiarly almost-blank, like he was working hard not to show something. Elijah could feel Dom behind him, so tense he was like warm, skin-covered steel. Billy raised the back of his hand to his mouth and wiped at it. He looked at his hand for a moment, then turned it toward Dom and Elijah. Dom exhaled noisily against the back of Elijah's neck. Elijah just stared, honestly puzzled, until Billy murmured, "The little cunt bit me."

Then Elijah could taste it in his mouth, brackish like seawater, but a little sweet, too, and his first thought was that it didn't taste like his own blood, like Billy was maybe a different flavor than Elijah. Then, _Holy shit, I made him bleed!_ and while his tongue was a little sore where Billy had bitten at it, it was most definitely not bleeding, and _oh, shit, I made him bleed!_

"He sure the fuck did," Dom growled.

"You bit me first," Elijah snarled, and where the fuck did that come from? He should be feeling awful, not… not fucking… not… what the hell _was_ he feeling?

And Billy, inexplicably, was fucking _smiling_ at him, or maybe not quite smiling, some kind of hard and unnerving grin-smirk hybrid, but whatever it was didn't seem like a bad thing, which proved to be the case almost immediately as Billy slammed up against Elijah again, his thumbs jabbing roughly into the hollows beneath Elijah's jaw, a sharphot flash of pressure that was nearly pain, forcing his head back. "You make it so fucking hard," Billy growled into his neck, his fingers curled around the base of Elijah's skull, pressing hard, and bit down briefly on the side of Elijah's neck -- fiercely enough that Elijah let out a short, startled cry -- and then sucked ferociously at the same spot, mouth wet and insistent. "You make it so fucking hard not to just…"

Billy's hips ground brutally against his, and Dom's hand was both good and bad, welcome friction and unwelcome barrier, but then Dom's hand was gone and Elijah pushed back just as forcefully, and it felt like they were fighting, almost, except for the hotwhite curl of lust lodged in Elijah's midsection and the pulsing rigidity of his cock (and Billy's) jammed up against Billy's belly. "I'm not the one making it hard," Elijah hissed, and Billy's teeth were on his throat again, sharp but good, and the feel of Billy's thumbs still pressing into his jaw, holding his head back, whoa, it was... it was something, it was good, it made his thighs tremble and his hands clutch at Billy's shoulders. "If you'd just fuck me already, just… come on, God, I fucking _want_ it…"

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Dom hissed in Elijah's ear. "Look at you switch, look at you fucking _switch_ …"

Elijah couldn't really tell which of them Dom was talking to, though maybe it didn't matter, since Elijah had no idea what he was fucking talking about, and at this point he didn't give a shit. "C'mon, c'mon," he chanted, pushing mindlessly against the heat and angles of Billy's body. "Billy, c'mon."

"Get his hands," Billy whispered throatily, pulling back slightly (Elijah gave a little moan of objection, and Dom chuckled, gruff lust-laughter, amazingly sexy, marketable even). Billy's eyes were glittering and dilated, barely any green showing at all around the enormous pools of black. "Get his fucking hands, Dommie." Billy's fingers were working at the cord of Elijah's pajama bottoms, and he dropped down to one knee, brows fierce and lowered in concentration. His hands were quick and deft, and Elijah couldn't tell if his fingertips brushing lightly against Elijah's cock was deliberate or accidental.

 _Oh_ , Elijah thought. _Oh, yes, oh **fuck** yes, please, c'mon_. He was going to fucking die, he was going to fucking _expire_ , and it was almost like that first night, when Elijah had still been half-convinced that none of it was real. His body felt disconnected from his mind, but not like he couldn't feel or control it, not distant, but rather like it was his _mind_ that was far away, and the rest of him was alive and buzzing and tingling. Dom's fingers curled around Elijah's wrists and drew them away from Billy, and that was okay, that was fine. Elijah was used to that, it had happened a half-dozen times in the course of the last three days, and he didn't even really think of it except to note that it was happening, until Dom pulled his hands behind his back, inching away from Elijah just enough to make room for them between their bodies, and Dom's hands went tight and imprisoning around Elijah's wrists.

"Gimme the thing," Dom murmured. "Gimme the cord-thingy, Bills," and Billy was already jerking it free of the waist of Elijah's pjs. "Yeah," Dom said, and he sounded insanely sexy, his voice all growly and deep. "Thanks, mate."

 _Thanks, mate?_ Elijah thought incredulously, but while it was funny, sure, it wasn't funny enough to actually coax a laugh out of his throat. He could barely force breath through it as it was. And behind him, Dom was winding the cord around his wrists. It made the skin between his shoulder blades twitch and tense, and he felt his fingers curling.

"Shh," Dom murmured, and trailed warm, soothing lips down Elijah's spine. "'S alright, 'Lijah. Just let it... let it happen."

The cord bit into his flesh when Dom knotted it, and Elijah's breath hitched and his hands curled into fists. He couldn't quite keep back a little "ah" of surprise at the feeling of it, but the didn't really know _why_ he was surprised, or even what he was feeling. He couldn't think. He wasn't thinking at all, was just sort of… being. Waiting. Dom gave the cord a tug, and Elijah twisted his wrists a little, just to get the feel of it, and it was okay, he was okay, it wasn't tight enough to hurt him, but his breath was still stuttering in his chest and throat. He could feel the flush on his face and neck, could feel the rush it sent to his cock. He twisted his wrists a little more, and felt the tender, thin skin on the insides of his wrists rub against the slick nylon of the cord, felt it burn a little.

He was aware of Billy in front of him, easing his pjs down his legs, and when Billy curled a hand around Elijah's ankle and lifted, he stepped out of them obediently, one foot and then the other. His brain felt like it was broadcasting a station that had gone off the air, nothing but static and white noise, but he could feel Billy's breath brushing the fronts of his thighs and Billy's fingertips grazing the backs of his knees. He could feel Dom behind him, though Dom wasn't pressed all the way up against him anymore. He was just holding Elijah's shoulders with both hands, his grip firm and warm and comfortingly familiar.

He didn't seem to be able to keep his hands from twisting and flexing (and he remembered the creak of leather and clink of chain from a few nights ago, remembered seeing the leather on Dom's wrists and hearing Dom twist at it), and it all made so much fucking _sense_ because Dom had done that, and Dom hadn't actually wanted to get loose; even then, Elijah had been able to see that. But it was like a compulsion, to do that, maybe just to see if you could, or maybe to be certain that you _couldn't_ , and Elijah couldn't, and that was... it weirdly fucking good. Didn't matter what he did now; he was caught. His heart was thudding so hard in his chest that it felt like it would come bursting out like one of Ridley Scott's aliens, but he wasn't confused about this.

He'd been sort of thinking about something like this for the last three days. Dom hadn't worn the leather cuffs the second night, but he'd worn them again last night -- behind his back, though, like Elijah's hands were right now (and Elijah had given his first blowjob then, too, but not to Dom, to _Billy_ ), and Dom's breathing had gone like Elijah's was right now, stuttery and arrhythmic, catching and hitching in his throat -- and Elijah's reaction hadn't changed. His fascination hadn't changed. He didn't know what he had thought it would be like -- he hadn't had any real expectations, it was all so new -- but the fluttery desire in his belly felt like it was laced with something just teetering on the good side of terror. He wondered if the leather cuffs would make him feel different than the nylon did. The idea that he'd probably find out fairly soon made him quiver.

"Dommie," Billy rumbled softly, and Elijah could hardly fucking understand what Billy was actually saying through the feel of that voice scritching over his skin. "His face, Dominic, look at his fucking _face_."

The low moan hovering in his eardrums was almost certainly his own, and Elijah didn't fucking care. "Is it supposed to be like this?" he asked dazedly, and his own voice was nearly as strange as Billy's, smoky and low and unfamiliar.

Dom moved around him to stand beside Billy, and for a moment Elijah felt dizzy. He was aware of some kind of dissonance, something about the way they were standing, something about Elijah looking down at Billy on his knees in front of him that seemed wrong, even more so when Billy turned and rested his forehead against Dom's thigh. Dom's long fingers curled around the back of Billy's neck and massaged gently ( _Those have been inside me_ , Elijah thought, and something twisted sharphot in his belly, and his wrists twisted at the same time, like in sympathy), but Dom's eyes were on Elijah, a grey riot of flickering intensity, and that didn't seem quite right either, like things weren't working the way Elijah's mind insisted they should be working, and he couldn't figure out why.

Billy closed his eyes and kisslickwhispered against Dom's thigh: "You first."

Dom's fingers tangled in Billy's hair briefly, then slid down to curl at the nape of his neck, and Elijah couldn't help watching them, the slow flex and bend, the tightening of the skin across Dom's knuckles, a faint smudge of ink along the edge of his palm where Dom had dragged his hand across the page while he was writing (Elijah had seen him do that dozens of times, maybe hundreds) in his journal, the glint of metal around the thumb and middle finger. He licked at suddenly dry lips, and wondered if he was the only person on the planet whose mouth went dry and metallic tasting at the sight of Dom's hands. Or maybe that was Billy's blood he still tasted. "He wants _you_ ," Dom said, but he didn't look away from Elijah when he said it -- his lips were quirked, an almost-smile -- and his tone was thoughtful rather than argumentative.

Elijah didn't say anything. There was a little bit of him that wanted to agree with Dom; he most definitely _did_ want Billy. But he'd left behind that sick certainty that this was some kind of cosmic joke, that it would be over at any moment, that Billy would smile at him and be genuinely sad, would regretfully tell him that it just wasn't going to be possible, and Elijah would somehow have to put his game face on -- a saying his dad had been fond of, before he'd fucked off, of course, which he had applied whenever Elijah had whined about something -- and practice damage control -- a Hollywood phrase, that -- in order to salvage their friendship, if nothing else.

Elijah was pretty sure -- okay, totally sure -- that he wasn't about to experience the most crushing denial of his life, and that eventually, things would be how he so desperately needed them to be, so... he could wait for it, if he was sure it was coming. He was willing to trust them, because they knew more about this sort of thing than he did. They both had more relationship experience alone, not to mention the whole gay bondage factor (he smiled faintly at the thought), so he could wait and see, he could concentrate on trying to figure out how things worked and where he fit, and just let the rest happen as it came.

They were both looking at him again, Elijah realized. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, just thinking, but they didn't really look like they were in a hurry. No impatience on either face. Actually, they were both staring, studying him, like they were... quite interested, in fact. Like he was doing something they were interested in. Except he wasn't. He was just standing.

He blinked curiously at them, and watched the corners of Billy's mouth quirk upward. "I know," Billy said (and Elijah had to mentally scroll back through the previous few minutes to figure out what he was talking about), "but it's not his decision, is it."

The phrasing made it rather sound like it should have been a question, but the tone was more like someone saying something undeniable, the sky is blue or The Ramones are amazing or Peter Jackson is a genius. The tone made it seem flatly factual, and Dom seemed to accept it as such.

Which was a little weird, because Dom would argue with _God_ , just to take the piss.

"All right," Dom said, breathing it out with a quiet, growling sort of exultation, and Elijah's runaway brain shut down abruptly at the sound of it. "All right, then." He was still looking at Elijah, weirdly focused and still and un-Dom-like. "You'll...?"

"I'll be here," Billy murmured, and rose smoothly to his feet, graceful and quick. Elijah's eyes went directly south of the waistband of Billy's (Dom's) yoga pants, and Elijah was quite helpless to stop them. God, Billy looked good, fucking edible, and he'd had Billy's cock in his mouth once already, and just looking at the outline through Dom's yoga pants made Elijah's mouth literally water. He wasn't very good at it -- not yet, though he was determined to improve -- and it was still maybe more handjob than blowjob, but he had fucking loved it, and he wanted to do it again. Except better this time (though Billy hadn't exactly complained the last time; in fact, Billy had made a soft, rumbly sound that was unmistakably approving very low in his throat, and that sound had already made it onto Elijah's top ten list of sounds he fucking loved, above anything by Radiohead and running neck and neck with the noise Dom made as he was sliding into Elijah), and he wondered if _that_ was normal, the whole weirdness of salivating at the idea of sucking Billy's cock (how extraordinarily gay was _that_?), or maybe if...

He was distracted from that line of thought by Dom's fingers sliding under his chin, tipping it carefully up -- he could see Billy's smirk from the corner of his eye, that _I know what you want_ smirk that always seemed to hover around Billy's lips, and which was entirely convincing every time Elijah saw it -- to force Elijah into eye contact. "Look at him," Dom said. "It's so quick, it's bloody unbelievable."

"Huh?" Elijah said (quite brilliantly, he thought).

Neither of them answered, of course. Dom shot a glance at Billy, and Billy nodded. "Shower first, then," Dom said, more like he was thinking aloud than actually speaking to anyone. "We're going to need it."

Billy's lips parted in a quick grin, there and then gone. "Good plan," he said, straight-faced, but with laughing eyes.

"Don't twit me, Boyd, you'll damage my fragile self-esteem," Dom complained, but he used the hand still curled around the back of Billy's neck to pull Billy close, and Elijah watched with interest (his cock twitching violent approval) as they kissed right in front of him, inches away, throats naked and vulnerable, lips and tongues slick and visible.

Inexplicably, he could taste the metallic tang of Billy's blood on his tongue again, bright and present. He wondered if Dom could taste it in Billy's mouth.

"Don't sulk, Dommie," Billy murmured against Dom's lips, and Dom made an exaggerated moue with his lips, the corners turned down into a tiny, petulant frown. Billy bit him for his trouble, and Elijah's cock throbbed deep want even as he felt his lips twisting into a smirk and a small, amused (and possibly slightly mocking) sound escaped his throat.

Then their eyes were on him again, hard, slightly narrowed green and storm-dark grey, and both of their faces were blank, no smiles, unamused and... measuring.

 _Oh,_ Elijah thought, not exactly surprised. His belly twisted with a deep pang of lust, and he didn't know exactly what was different (except he did, sort of, he just couldn't fix on it), but it _was_ different, all amusement shed, it was harder (threatening), no longer casual but deliberate and intent.

The taste of Billy's blood in his mouth now reminded him of anticipation, like that moment right before the music started, when the band was on stage, positioned above the mere mortals in the crowd and backlit like gods, and everything was quiet, still, heavy with waiting.

"You should take him," Dom said -- looking at Elijah, but talking to Billy, and Elijah noticed this happening a lot, in as much as he'd noticed anything other than their bodies and their voices and their cocks during sex -- and he almost sounded a little hopeful, like he wanted Billy to agree, but also like he didn't think Billy would.

"Why should I make it easy on you?" Billy was smiling as he said it, but it was a sharp thing, that smile, and Dom seemed to know it. "Exercise a little fucking control, Dommie. It'll do you good."

For a moment, Dom hesitated, but then his jaw firmed, and he said: "Fine."

And there was something just outside of Elijah's understanding, something that he wasn't quite getting. He could feel it there, it was driving him batshit, some kind of revelation, but there was too much going on for him to grasp it, too many distractions. But watching Dom and Billy looking at each other, for just a second Elijah _almost_ had it.

And then Billy looked away from Dom, looked at _him_ , and he lost it in the way Billy's eyes narrowed and sharpened. He stared back, scrabbling for that almost-understanding (and he was inexplicably tense, he felt tight and the look on Billy's face made him want to glare back, narrowed eyes and bared teeth, like a dog), and Billy said: "You shouldn't let him think so much, Dommie, he's switching on you," and he sounded amused, but it was a surface amusement, not-quite concealing an undercurrent of warning beneath.

Elijah couldn't tell if that subtly warning tone was meant for Dom, or for him.

"Just what the fuck am _I_ supposed to do about it," Dom shot back, sounding genuinely at a loss, and that just made Elijah want to snarl more, and he didn't get why he was feeling so... aggressive all of the sudden.

"I'd recommend against _that_ , to begin with," Billy remarked, oddly casual. "That's a mistake, with someone like him."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean," Dom growled, and glared at Billy, but he looked dismayed and uncertain rather than indignant.

Elijah knew just exactly what Billy meant, though, understood it implicitly, and had his whole life. Billy knew how not to reveal nerves, how not to show it when he wasn't sure what he was doing, how to hide it when he was afraid, and Dom just didn't hide things like that. Dom didn't hide much of anything. But Elijah had been in Hollywood for a long time, and when they said "Dog Eat Dog," they fucking meant just exactly that.

You don't ever let a dog know you're afraid of it. You don't show fear or uncertainty. You present confident, assertive body language, you speak in a firm, commanding tone, you keep yourself contained and in control, because otherwise, who the hell knew what it would do?

He might have smiled at the idea -- part of him wanted to, part of him, in fact, wanted to let out a growling little bark, just to see if Dom would jump -- but he remembered having them both looking at him, remembered the way it felt to have their normal personas slide out of their eyes, replaced by intriguingly familiar strangers, so he didn't.

And. He thought he could make Dom jump. But he didn't think Billy would. He thought Billy was the kind of guy that was likely to swat an unruly dog with a rolled-up newspaper.

Funny how three days could drastically change your perspective.

Well. Three days and the gay-sex-bondage-threesome thing.

He felt Billy's eyes on him at the same time he felt the smirk on his lips, and he was fairly sure the former was a direct result of the latter.

"Look at him just stand there and switch," Dom said, his voice both frustrated and admiring. "Look at that smile."

"Too much time to think," Billy repeated, and walked around behind Dom, sliding his arms around Dom's waist to hug him from behind. "You need to keep him in a place where it's not an issue. Find it and hold him there, Dom. He doesn't know how _not_ to do it, and there isn't any way to teach him without him understanding first."

"I fucking hate it when you talk about me like I'm not fucking standing _right here_ ," Elijah snapped, and he jerked twice at his wrists, hard enough to feel the cord wound around them really fucking bite. "Can't we just fucking get on with it?"

And they both fucking _ignored_ him. Elijah watched, incredulous and aggravated beyond measure, as Dom turned his head to look at Billy and Billy returned Dom's regard, and he might as well not have even been in the room. "Make him forget how to think, Dominic," Billy murmured, and his hand stroked across Dom's naked belly twice, soothing strokes. "You know how to do that."

"Yeah," Dom said, sounding a little more certain now. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Don't get carried away." Billy smiled thinly, and his eyes slid to Elijah for a moment, veiled with dark promises or threats. "Ten minutes. Then I'll come looking."

Dom nodded his understanding, eyes soft on Billy while Billy continued to look at Elijah, and for a moment, none of them moved. Then Billy was walking away, off down the hall without looking back, and Elijah was surprised at the dismay that was suddenly roiling in his belly, surprised at the uncertainty and something that was not exactly hurt, but was like it. He wished he hadn't snapped at them, and he was confused again, confused and ridiculously repentant. He might have said something, or maybe followed Billy down the hall, but then Dom slid in front of Elijah, distracting him from Billy's retreating back. His face was weirdly reminiscent of Billy's, calm and serious. But that wasn't all that unusual on Billy's face, and it looked out of place on Dom's.

"What's going on?" Elijah asked, his voice irritatingly unsteady, his hands twisting and clenching behind him with anxiety now, instead of out of experimental lust.

"Don't look like that," Dom said softly, and stroked two fingertips across Elijah's jaw. "He isn't deserting you. He'd never do that."

 _Deserting me?_ Elijah wondered, but he didn't argue, because that actually felt sort of right, felt like it fit the nervous flutter in his belly and the tightness in his chest. God, he felt stupid. Stupid and young and ignorant. He didn't usually. Even he, in his inexperience, was generally more in control of himself than _Dom_ , but right now he felt like he wasn't in control of anything, and Dom had gone all calm and still and gentle, and while the burn of lust and need and want was still there, it was muted by his uncertainty and the persistent sense that he didn't really understand what was happening. He wasn't used to being like this, feeling like this. Like a spectator, almost. He had been making his own decisions for so long, pursuing his goals and managing his career, that he didn't know how to be any other way.

"Stop thinking," Dom murmured gently, and cupped Elijah's jaw, tilting his face up slightly. "Don't try to figure it out now, 'Lijah. We'll talk after, yeah?" But he didn't wait for Elijah to agree or disagree, just dipped in and kissed him, lips and tongue and hands on his face, and Elijah probably would have agreed to anything with that kind of incentive. When Dom pulled away and then tugged him purposefully forward, he stumbled into a walk, letting Dom direct him down the hall and into the bathroom without any kind of objection.

He watched Dom bend and turn on the shower, boxers tugged momentarily taut against the outline of Dom's cock, and looking away wasn't an option. He wasn't used to it yet, wasn't used to being allowed to look at them, and taking advantage of the opportunity to steal a look when it arose was second nature at this point. When Dom casually stripped off his boxers, Elijah kept looking. He wondered if he'd ever get his fill of just _looking_ at them.

"Get in," Dom invited, clearly amused, and Elijah blushed, caught staring.

"I'm still..." Elijah objected, turning slightly to flap his hands behind his back. Like maybe Dom had forgotten.

The amusement crinkling Dom's eyes didn't quite fade, but the smile slid away, and Dom was still again, still and solemn. "I know," he said simply.

Elijah blinked, but he wasn't an utter moron, so he didn't mention it again. And it was a little odd to realize that this was less scary than... intriguing. He couldn't wash with his hands tied, obviously, so... Dom was going to have to do it. His skin tingled as he stepped obediently into the warm spray, Dom's hand curled around his upper arm to steady him.

He stood near the back of the tub where the spray wouldn't hit him in the face and wondered a little hazily if this was going to be another one of those moments that engraved itself starkly onto his mind forever, like the moment when he'd awakened and found Billy standing in the shadowy dark, watching him sleep, and the first surreal rush of seeing Dom kneeling on Billy's bed, naked and bound.

This moment, with Dom just looking at him with his still and distant face, so unusual, felt just as unreal as those others had when they had actually been happening, made him feel just as off-balance, as confused, as wretchedly wanting.

Having his hands tied behind him in the shower was disquieting. He wondered if it was normal to feel so helpless, and if it was similarly normal that it made him hyper aware of the width of Dom's chest as he stepped into the shower with Elijah, and the interruption of the spray of water as Dom's body insinuated itself between Elijah and the showerhead, and the way his nipples went tight and hard in the cool air, without the hot spray warming his chest.

 _I could have been showering with him for days now, I'm so fucking stupid,_ he thought, but there was no real sting to it, because he could shower with Dom tomorrow, too, and the next day if he wanted. He wondered if it was possible to fit all three of them in the shower. He wondered how much it would cost to add another bathroom onto the house, with one of those really enormous showers with like six showerheads. And a big Jacuzzi tub.

"Stop thinking," Dom growled, and his hands curled harshly around Elijah's upper arms, reeling Elijah close. Elijah felt the cool tile of the wall against his back at the same time Dom's mouth slanted down across his again, and he thought it was possible that there was no better combination of feelings, cold tile on his back, warm water and steam, Dom's skin, slick and wet and warm, sliding across his chest, and Dom's lips opening his, Dom's tongue sliding into his mouth with urgent intent, but that was before Dom's hips lined up with his and Dom's cock was pressed against his, both of them sliding against the wet skin of their bellies.

His hands were pressed uncomfortably between the wall and his back, but it didn't exactly hurt, and he was a hell of a lot more concerned with Dom, Dom who was growling and pressing, his hands curled around Elijah's ribs and sliding down to his hips, alternately stroking and digging in, blunt fingertips biting into skin and muscle. Elijah moaned and pressed back, arched his back and matched his hips to Dom's, shuddering as his cock slid along Dom's, shuddering harder at the way Dom's fingers tightened at the contact.

"I saw you wanking in the shower once," Dom purred into his ear, his lips wet and hot, moving against Elijah's cheek. "In New Zealand. I saw you."

Elijah's mouth dropped open -- he didn't have the breath to gasp, though his face went hot immediately. He struggled for some kind of response, but nothing was coming to him. The feel of Dom grinding against him -- gently now, but still fucking rocking softly, sliding their cocks together -- made speech more than just a little difficult, and besides, what the fuck was he supposed to say to _that?_

"In Billy's shower," Dom offered, and Elijah's face was on fire now, he was painfully humiliated, because it wasn't like he'd beat off at Billy's place often, and he remembered with painful clarity why he'd done so that night in particular.

There had been drinking and roughhousing and laughter and at some point in the wee hours of the morning, Elijah had awoken with Orlando's legs draped over his on the couch and he had _heard_ them. He'd heard Dom and Billy in the bedroom just down the hall. Not clearly, but clearly enough to understand what was going on. It hadn't been anywhere near clearly enough, at the time, but he had lain awake anyhow, had listened, and for a couple of hours afterward had been unable to get it out of his head, unable to fall asleep again, until wanking in the shower had seemed like the best solution available.

"I watched you," Dom whispered, and his hands were busy on Elijah's chest, stroking roughly across Elijah's ribs, belly, and nipples. The rocking of his hips had slowed to a barely-there counterpoint, slowly building pleasure.

"Oh, God," Elijah whispered. His own voice sounded faint, and it seemed like the harsh throbbing of his cock was somehow tied into the flush on his cheeks.

"Yeah," Dom agreed, smiling faintly now, eyes glittering evilly. "That's a bit how I felt." He drew back slightly -- Elijah's body tried to follow the retreat of Dom's slickly heated skin, but Dom stopped him with one hand on his chest, firm and no-nonsense -- and snagged a bottle of liquid soap from the caddy hanging from the showerhead.

"Did I, uh..." Elijah began, but then changed his mind. It was a stupid question.

"What?" Dom asked, rubbing his hands together briskly for a few seconds before smoothing white lather across Elijah's shoulders. Elijah shook his head, mute with mortification, while Dom's hands washed him, business-like and seemingly independent of Dom's attention, because Dom was still looking fixedly at him. His hands were gentle, nothing but soft, soothing pressure across Elijah's shoulders, chest, ribs, without digging fingertips or squeezing palms. And. He wanted to surge forward against Dom's hands. He wanted to maybe squirm a little, and see if Dom's hands would harden and bite.

 _I'm a fucking pervert,_ he thought, thoroughly absorbed in the way Dom's hands looked splayed out on his skin, their texture smoothed and softened with soap. But he couldn't quite stop himself from trying it, squirming away a little, and Dom's hands _did_ harden, became restricting, his fingers curled tight around Elijah's arms, holding him, and Elijah stilled obediently, because… Dom wanted him to.

"Um," Elijah mumbled. He'd lost track of the conversation. Had there been a conversation?

If there had, it seemed to be one Dom was willing to abandon. He was watching his hands on Elijah's skin, too. His fingertips grazed Elijah's nipples, feathery, and Elijah made some kind of sound that might have been the word "more" if he'd opened his lips and released it, and just knowing that made him blush even harder. But Dom wasn't looking at his face, he was looking at Elijah's skin, hands turned slightly so his fingers were splayed along Elijah's ribs, angled so his thumbs could sweep across Elijah's nipples, and this time when Elijah squirmed it wasn't deliberate. Dom's fingertips still sank harshly into his ribs, painfully, but Elijah's whimper was about half moan, and he didn't object. He could hear his own breath coming in little quavers, and the hunger darkening Dom's face made Elijah feel a little woozy, a little displaced. That same loss of connection between mind and body, like there was some kind of short circuit directly connected to Dom's hands and Billy's voice, like either one of them could choose to disconnect him any time they wanted to, and it should've been scary, maybe, but it wasn't, because it was _them_ , and he trusted them.

"The night I saw you," Dom said, eyes raising to meet Elijah's while his brow furrowed into a small frown, "that night changed everything."

Elijah had no idea how to respond to that. Why? wanted to trip off his tongue and slide past his lips, but he bit down on it, made the effort to still it, because he was a little afraid of knowing why, a little afraid it might hurt.

"You said Billy's name," Dom murmured, his eyes fiery on Elijah's face, making Elijah's face burn. "You," he whispered, and his hands curled hard around Elijah's ribs and moved downward, thumbs jabbing at the hollows of Elijah's hips hard enough to make him inadvertently try to pull away. Dom didn't let him, held him there, and Elijah couldn't look away from the furious heat in Dom's eyes. "You said his name, I _heard_ you, and I wanted you for the first time, then, Elijah, that was the minute it started and it hasn't stopped since then."

"I…" Elijah whispered, not sure what it was he wanted to say, only knowing that Dom's expression was making it hard to breathe and hard to think. "I couldn't help it."

Dom laughed, a dark, lust-laden chuckle that made Elijah shiver. "Of course not," he said. "That's how he likes it." He pulled Elijah's hips against his, tight, but didn't move, and when Elijah tried to push against him, his fingers clenched hard. "Billy is going to do terrible, wonderful things to you, 'Lijah."

It sent a shock of fearful yearning straight to Elijah's cock, and he made some kind of sound, soft, short, and senseless. His hands writhed pointlessly behind him, and he leaned into Dom without really intending to, but Dom's hands were merciless on his hips. "Why not you?" Elijah groaned softly, muscles straining forward in spite of what was now actual pain, Dom's hands holding him back hard enough to _hurt_ , but he didn't care, he could fucking take it.

"Not this time," Dom said. "Billy would skin me alive." He didn't give Elijah time to ask what the fuck _that_ was supposed to mean before he was turning Elijah, his fingertips boring into Elijah's hips directing him around, and Elijah turned willingly, hopefully, but Dom just released him and ran soapy hands up Elijah's back, palms flat and caressing. "I think I bruised you."

"I don't care," Elijah said quickly, and it was perfectly true. He didn't give a flying fuck about bruises, he was fully in the throes of urgent need, and he just wanted Dom to bruise him _more_ , give him more. He couldn't take much more waiting. He pushed back against Dom, and Dom's hands slid around to his chest even as Dom's cock slid firmly up against his ass, infuriatingly close to what Elijah needed, but not close enough. "Dom," he hissed, and rocked his hips back into Dom deliberately, listened to him snarl softly. Dom's hands slid down, one arm curling tight around his lower belly, drawing Elijah's ass back and against him, the other hand traveling lower, still slick with a little soap, not curling around Elijah's cock (although Elijah squirmed animatedly, attempting to persuade it), but lower than that, cupping his balls firmly, even a little roughly. "Yes, Dom," Elijah encouraged, gasping for air, hands clenched tightly between his back and Dom's belly.

"You aren't Billy," Dom growled into his ear, and bit down on his neck. "You aren't going to top me from the bottom."

 _What?_ But he was whimpering, Dom was biting him _hard_ and it was zinging from throat to groin, traveling a wandering path that set the rest of him to buzzing as well, and the most expedient thing seemed to agree, and he didn't want to be on the top, not right now, he wanted to be right where he was except he wanted to be there with Dom _inside_ him. "I'm not," he panted. "I'm not, I won't, Dom, just touch me, please… just do it."

"That was well done," Billy said from somewhere behind him, them, and Elijah nearly sobbed with frustration. "Maybe a little heavy handed, but still. Got the job done."

And Dom was letting him go, was easing away, and Elijah couldn't help it. As soon as Dom moved away, he was turning and following, almost blinded by water and need, his entire body a pulsing, grinding ache of desire. "Dom, Dom, don't, please…"

There was still soap everywhere, though, and the bottom of the tub was slicker than he'd anticipated -- or than he would've anticipated had he even thought about it, which he hadn't -- and he didn't have his hands for balance. He knew he was going to fall, tipping precariously while he tried to recover -- and he was really just hoping he didn't hurt himself badly enough to stop him from ending up in bed with them -- teetering on the balls of his feet, then Billy had a hand on his shoulder, steadying him, and Dom's hands were wrapped tight around his upper arms (funny how he was sure who's hands were who's, even with his eyes closed against the spray).

They both left their hands on him until he was out of the shower, feet firm on the bath mat, and then both of them let go and he was reeling in a different sense, needy and anchorless. His body was moving without his direction, already, turning toward Billy, and Billy took a step back from him, deliberate and calculating, and the look on Billy's face was… not angry, but something like that. Something related to it, something that was kissing cousins with angry, maybe, and Elijah couldn't look away from it. While his brain, or what was available of it, was trying to figure out what that look meant, his body was doing it's own thing, still, ignoring what could only be interpreted as blatant rejection from Billy and swaying toward him anyway, issuing an invitation (he knew that was what it was) that the thinking part of him wasn't at all sure he would be able to come through on.

Billy ignored him, attention wholly focused on Dom, and he remembered what Dom had said about being _deserted_ , and that was it, that was _this_ , he was abandoned and adrift and he didn't know what to do about it. The whimper was too desperate to contain, it escaped interspersed with little gasping sounds that Elijah couldn't identify.

Billy turned to look at him, face softening slightly, and if Elijah's hands had been free he would have reached for Billy, clung to him. Maybe Billy knew it, maybe it showed on Elijah's face, because Billy's expression went even gentler and he smiled, familiar and comforting, not like the smile Billy gave Dom in bed when things were far less haphazard than they might have seemed, not the smile Elijah had been quietly, desperately wishing Billy would direct at him for the last three fucking days and nights, but it was okay that it wasn't _that_ smile, because Elijah could see hints of it around Billy's eyes. He could see the potential for it, could see it beneath the gentle expression, behind it, reigned in and restrained (like Elijah's hands), but present. Lying in wait.

"Please," Elijah said, and there was more, but he didn't know how to say it, so he just repeated that one word again. "Please."

"You're talking to the wrong top," Billy said soothingly, and took Elijah's shoulders in both hands and turned him around, away. Toward Dom. "Let me see you do _this_ before you come to _me_ , 'Lijah." Billy's voice was not that threatening, grating sneer that he used on Dom when Dom was snarling at him. There was no command in it, now. It was kindly and patient. But the tone and the words were at odds, and Elijah didn't believe it, didn't, wouldn't, but when he tried to turn back to Billy he was stopped abruptly and painfully by Dom, Dom's hand, wrapped firmly around his balls and tugging him away.

There was no choice but to stumble away from Billy, stumble forward until he was being mostly supported by Dom, and he didn't dare try to squirm away, not with Dom's hand tight around his balls, and oh fucking Jesus, that _hurt_ , it hurt, and he was trembling from it, head back and face hot and breath stuttering out of a throat that was tight and clenching with pain and need, and Dom wasn't stopping, wasn't increasing the pressure, but wasn't stopping, and Elijah couldn't tell even if he _wanted_ him to. It hurt, yes, fucking yes it hurt, but that wasn't all, or even mostly it, and he could hear himself whining and he could hear Billy ("Oh, that's bloody pretty.") talking, but Dom wasn't saying anything, was just looking at him, measuring him, and Elijah managed to stammer out an apology -- "Dom, sorry, please… sorry…" -- and he didn't know why, only that it was what he was _supposed_ to do, and the pressure around his balls eased slowly, a gradual recession, until Elijah could breathe again, and stand under his own power.

But Dom didn't let him go, even then.

Dom held him there and looked at him, practically nose to nose, eyes bright and intent, holding Elijah's gaze, and when Billy murmured: "Beautiful," from behind him, Elijah didn't look or even blink.

Eventually, Dom smiled faintly. "Mine right now, Elijah," he whispered, breath fluttering against Elijah's lips. "Billy's later, yes, both of us, but _mine_ right now."

"Yes," Elijah said, the word out and hanging in the scant bit of air between them for a full second before Elijah really understood that _he_ had said it. His cock was crushed up against the hard angle of Dom's hip, uncomfortable against the ridge of it, but he didn't try to squirm away. He knew what would happen if he did, and that was… a relief. It was a relief to know, and while it didn't unwind him, didn't relieve the tension shivering in every muscle of his body, it did _something_ , made something happen, and he was almost calm.

"Don't make me hurt you like that again. That isn't what I want from you."

Elijah hesitated, not because he disagreed necessarily, but because he wasn't quite sure he _believed_ Dom. Not quite. It wasn't even that he thought Dom was lying, it was just… he thought it wasn't the whole truth, maybe. But Dom was waiting, so he finally said, "Okay," and ignored Billy chuckling quietly behind him, even though the sound of it made him want to twitch.

Dom looked away from him, looked at Billy from over the top of Elijah's head, and Elijah was at a loss again, for a moment, uncertain and nerved. He resisted the urge to turn his head and look at Billy too, instead letting his head loll forward, cheek against Dom's shoulder. One of Dom's hands curved around the back of his neck, firm but not tight, massaging gently for a moment, and that was better, having Dom's attention even that little bit was better, and Elijah could feel himself loosening slightly, settling into a steady low throb of want that was enveloping and omnipresent, but something he could deal with, something less off-balancing than what had lead up to this. It helped that he could smell Dom, earthy and clean, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lick at Dom's shoulder, lick away droplets of water, taste Dom on his tongue like he could smell Dom and feel Dom against his chest.

Dom's hand tightened and his chest hitched a little as he exhaled. "Okay," Dom said, and his fingers curled into the short hair at the back of Elijah's neck for a moment, tugging just a little. Dom took another deep breath and held it for a moment, and the exhale sounded calmer to Elijah. "Okay." He pulled back and slid his arm out from around Elijah, pushing him back a couple of inches. Elijah met Dom's eyes because that was what Dom seemed to want; he could feel Dom searching his face, looking for something specific, Elijah thought, but he didn't know what. He wasn't surprised, though, when Dom's hands curled around the tops of his shoulders and applied firm downward pressure.

"Bedroom?" Billy murmured, but he must have known what Dom would say because he had his hands under Elijah's arms, steadying him as he went down to his knees.

"No. Here. Now," Dom breathed, but he did nothing, just looked at Elijah from above.

Elijah's attention was divided; he was drawn to the look on Dom's face, the heat of Dom's gaze, but Dom's cock was less than six fucking inches from his face, and that was a formidable distraction. And before, before _this_ , Elijah would have touched (his hands twisted behind him), wouldn't have hesitated, but he couldn't touch, now, and he wasn't sure he was supposed to anyhow. Because.

He wasn't calling the shots here. And this was different from before, different from the three of them in Billy's huge bed -- although he was starting to see that it wasn't different for Billy or for Dom, that they had been… holding back, or something, keeping him apart from this, though he had seen glimpses of it between the two of them, and maybe he hadn't understood exactly what he was seeing then, and maybe he still didn't, not exactly, but it was getting clearer by the fucking second -- while Elijah touched and tasted and was touched and tasted. That had been exploratory, like learning to balance on a surfboard, sort of. That had been them letting him figure out the balance, because _they_ already knew, didn't they. Yes. Of course they did.

And what was happening now was like… learning to hang ten?

Basic technique versus advanced application of theory.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't stop looking at Dom's cock; the longer he knelt in front of Dom the worse it got, until he could barely make himself look up at Dom's face for a second or two at a time, because Dom's cock was _right fucking there_ , and he had tasted it (him) before, but he had never sucked it, never heard Dom whimper with his mouth around Dom's cock (like he'd heard Dom whimper with Billy's mouth around him) and he wanted to find out if Dom would sound the same, or if it would be different like this was different, because Dom was different like this, too.

His eyes ticked up to Dom's face. The light was behind Dom, and his face was shadowy, his expression indeterminate.

Dom was still watching him, though, quiet and still and tense again, so very not-Dom that Elijah's brain kept insisting that there was something wrong with this scenario, that it shouldn't even be Dom standing there, not like that.

"Tell me what to do?" Elijah whispered, and maybe that wasn't right, because Dom turned his face away, his eyes sank closed, and Elijah could see the tight clench of muscle at his jaw. Behind him, Billy made a sound Elijah didn't know how to interpret. Dom's left hand curled around the edge of the sink, rings clinking against the porcelain. Elijah licked his lips (his eyes flicked back to Dom's cock, just for a second, he couldn't help it) and tried to think of what else to say, something better that would make Dom _look_ at him again, but only managed to get out, "Dom," before Dom's eyes were on him again. He took a half step forward, closing the distance between them, and Elijah now had a very good excuse for directing his attention toward Dom's cock.

 _You're going to put my fucking eye out,_ he thought, but the spark in his chest that fueled the words didn't last long enough to carry them from brain to lips, because Dom's cock bumped heatedly against his cheekbone (warm, leaving a slick place on his skin, he could feel it), and he was still amazed anytime he touched one of them that the skin was so sleek, the amazing combination of soft and hard (and there was some kind of sound trapped in Elijah's throat as his midsection tightened with desperate heat, something about the way Dom was quite deliberately sliding the length of his cock along Elijah's cheek), and he could abruptly smell Dom, too. Smell him like he'd smelled Billy earlier, sex and soap and some kind of woodsy smell -- dark and earthy, a smell that was entirely natural, a good smell, Dom-smell -- that Elijah's brain had always associated with Dom's peculiar openness. Instinct was enough to turn his lips toward Dom's cock, but Dom pulled back slightly, and Elijah stopped and looked up at Dom, waiting.

"Suck it," Dom rumbled, and Elijah's cock jerked and his mouth dropped open, and he was both rigid with need and relieved, grateful, because not knowing what Dom wanted was worse than nearly anything, because sucking Dom's cock was what he wanted anyhow, because he'd asked Dom to tell him, and Dom _had_ , and for lots of other reasons that weren't really very clear in his mind. He hesitated, not because he didn't want to, but because he wasn't really sure how to do it without his hands, and Dom said, "Suck me off, Elijah," and this time there was an edge to his voice. Then one of Dom's hands was cupped around the back of Elijah's head, urging him forward, and that was okay because Dom's other hand slid around the base of his own cock, angling it downward, and that helped. Elijah spread his knees a little for balance and let Dom just pull him forward, pull Elijah onto his cock, distantly aware that he was trembling a little, shivering, but not with fear, and his cock was heavy with craving between his thighs.

Dom tasted of clean skin, faint traces of soap and salt, and the bitter musk of precome, different than Billy, bitterer and not quite as strong. It was intimate, intimate like Dom's hand cradling the back of Elijah's neck, like the sound Dom made, which wasn't like the same whimper he made for Billy. It was deeper, a low sound of satisfaction, more like the sound Dom made when he was fucking Elijah. Elijah groaned a little and slid his lips further up Dom's cock, as far as he could (because it seemed like if he just could do this, just could _have_ it, it would relieve the urgent pressure in his balls, though he was sure at any other time that idea wouldn't make sense at all), until his lips brushed against the curve of Dom's fist, still wrapped around the base of his cock.

Dom's hips took up a gentle, rocking counterpoint, and Elijah couldn't quite figure out how to meet it, how to complement it. He struggled with it, gagging a little, trying to figure it out, do it _right_ , but it took Billy, finally, whispering in his ear -- and now that Elijah was aware of it, he could feel Billy beside him, very close but not touching -- "Just be still, 'Lijah, let him take what he wants," for him to understand, and then it was easier.

"Yes," Dom said, a low, short hiss of approval, and _yes_ went straight to Elijah's cock, so sharply immediate that Elijah groaned and Dom groaned, too, and Elijah could feel the press of the side of Dom's hand against his lips when Dom thrust forward, and oh, oh God, the feel of Dom's hand behind his head, holding him still, holding him steady, and the push of Dom's cock across his tongue, the top of his mouth, God, he wished he knew how to do what Billy did, take Dom into his throat, deep, swallow around the head of Dom's cock and feel it pulse in his throat, he wished, he wanted…

"There you are," Billy murmured, breath hot against Elijah's cheek, close enough to make Elijah shiver a little at the thought of how it must look, what Billy could see. "A natural, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, and Elijah's attention was too completely absorbed by Dom's cock to have answered anyway. If he curled his tongue along the flare just at the head, Dom made a noise like a sob caught in his chest, and Elijah could hear himself echoing back something similar but distorted. Dom choked out a soft sound, neither a growl nor a moan but something in between, and thrust deeper. It was enough to make Elijah choke, make his eyes sting, but the sound Dom made, the fucking _sound_ , it was worth it just to hear that sound and feel Dom's cock jerk against his tongue; he did it again, conscious of the price, and Dom hissed, "Oh fuck, that's good, yes."

Elijah hardly noticed that Dom's hand (which had been gripping the base of Dom's cock) had curled around the side of Elijah's face instead, fingertips pressing into the angle beneath his jaw, until he felt the head of Dom's cock push hard against the back of his throat. He choked in earnest this time, struggling to accommodate it without knowing how, and he couldn't ( _…but Dom wants, Dom wants…_ he thought, disjointed and dismayed), but when he fell back to gulp for breath Billy's chest was right up against Elijah's back, supporting but also trapping him. There was a moment of bright panic, trapped and unable to _breathe_ … His eyes snapped open and he tried to jerk away from Billy, but Billy's hand slid into his limited frame of vision, and Elijah watched it wrap around the base of Dom's cock. He felt himself relaxing ( _Billy won't let me…_ ) because Billy was there; Elijah's eyes slid closed, and he was relieved of the need to worry or fight the press of Dom's hips and his cock. It was easy to lean back against Billy, reclined in dissonant comfort, pierced by the bright ache of his jaw and the grinding pulse of his cock.

"Head back a bit more," Billy murmured, and Billy's fingertips grazed the underside of Elijah's chin, a gentle press completely unlike the forceful urgency of Dom's hands. Elijah raised his chin obediently and felt the brush of Billy's lips on the tender skin just below his ear. "Good boy, now relax your jaw. Soft mouth." It was simple when Billy said it, simple when Elijah wasn't struggling so hard to do it right, and Dom growled wordless approval, too, sending shivering vibrations across Elijah's skin. "Beautiful, yes," Billy whispered, and his lips brushed Elijah's jaw with each word, bright heat, dangerous like radiation. "Yeah, so pretty, gonna teach you to take it all, 'Lijah. God, your mouth is gorgeous."

Elijah wanted it, too, wanted it badly, wanted it _now_ , because Dom would make those fucking sounds and Billy's voice would roll over his skin with warmth and approval and want and admiration, and it could make him forget everything else, those things, and _yes_ , he wanted that, yes, needed it, wanted it…

"Oh my God," Dom gasped, distant and stunned, hands grasping at the back of Elijah's neck and jaw, and the breathless moan, strangled, the massacred syllables of Elijah's name, yes, and he knew Billy had manipulated him, it was obvious, Billy had pushed all the right buttons, used the right words, all very deliberate, and Elijah was _grateful_. Dom's cock was perfect in his throat, discomfort minimal and negligible, triumph vibrant and present.

"So malleable," Billy sighed into his ear, "a fucking natural." Billy's fingertips brush against him, an instant of warning, before Billy was pushing fingers inside him, slick with something, but unexpected, and Elijah couldn't stop himself from tensing. The pain was sharp enough to jerk a cry from him, mostly muffled around Dom's cock (but he couldn't pull back now, Dom's hands were merciless, and Dom was snarling, garbled and unrecognizable edges of words that meant nothing to Elijah's ears, but seemed to translate somewhere else, somewhere lower), and he went helplessly rigid, back bowed and tense, his hands jerking hard against the nylon cord. "Lovely," Billy murmured gruffly, and it didn't stop hurting, that wasn't it, but the hurt was overwhelmed, drowned by the wash of heat that flooded Elijah's belly at the sound of Billy's voice, _praise_ delivered in the low, rasping tone. Abruptly, he could feel every beat of his heart in his cock and every twitch of Billy's fingers inside him, and the twisting coil of need in his belly and groin was spreading again, somehow, spiraling outward. Billy's lips were a millimeter from his throat, and Billy's breath felt like fire shivering over his skin. Dom's fingers pressed against the other side of his neck, drilling into his nerve endings, and everything was the hard press of intense sensation.

It couldn't be really real because real people didn't feel like this, this was the kind of thing that would kill him if it went on too long, but Dom's cock pushing urgently against the back of his throat eroded fear and Billy's clever fingers obliterated reason. All the details were like freeze-frame moments in an incomprehensible movie (something by Tarrantino, probably), because he could only capture one at a time without going into overload, and they were all connected and belonged together, but it was the kind of movie where you wouldn't be able to tell how they all fit until the end.

His hands were like helpless animals twisting desperately in clever snares, and the nylon around his wrists burned gratifyingly. Billy's breath ghosted across his cheek ("Don't let him go, you have him, Dommie.") and Elijah shuddered and pushed his body back against Billy, and Billy kissed his jaw. The movement of Dom's hips was becoming arrhythmic (still compellingly potent, but the range abbreviated) and if Elijah's hands were free he would be able to slide them across Dom's belly and feel the muscles there clench, across Dom's thighs and feel the tremble of Dom on the edge, on the verge. Elijah was on the verge, too. Billy's fingers were pressing hard inside him, urging him forward (he was going to come, he was going to come and he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to, but he couldn't help it, he was out of...) and he didn't know how to pull back. Dom stiffened, tightened and went still, and Elijah felt him shudder, felt it in his mouth and his throat, felt it in the fluttering of Dom's fingers on his jaw, felt it in his own cock, that clenched and helpless tension, painfully perfect, and he was aware that he was on the verge of screaming out, and that he shouldn't, couldn't, or he might choke. Billy seemed to realize an instant before inevitability, and he stopped, fingers going still inside Elijah.

 _No, oh no._ Elijah whimpered at the same time as Dom let out a strangled shout, a desperate counterpoint, and then Elijah was swallowing because there really wasn't any choice. Dom sounded like he was dying. Elijah was distantly aware of the discomfort of Dom's grip, but most of him was focused on the feel of Dom's cock pulsing into his mouth, he could feel it, God, he could feel it and his cock was pulsing too, heavy, so close, and he could feel Dom and taste Dom, and he was utterly enthralled.

Dom pulled away before Elijah was ready, before he wanted it to be over; he tried to bow his body forward, to follow Dom, but too many hands stopped him, Dom's pushing him back, and at least one of Billy's wrapped around his hip. Elijah could hear himself gasping like he was trying to catch up on a weeks worth of breathing, though he didn't actually remember whether or not he'd been able to breathe once Dom's cock had pushed into the back of his throat.

He felt hot, like he was on the verge of a stroke or something, and he couldn't get the way Dom had sounded out of his head, broken-throated moans, God, yes, and Elijah wasn't done, he ached and needed. Billy's presence behind him was steadying, and he leaned willingly back into Billy's chest when he wrapped an arm around Elijah's waist and tugged. Billy behind him and Dom in front of him braced him, somehow, in some way that had nothing to do with physical support. Elijah was shaking with want, yes, but he also sort of wanted to preen and stretch and feel his own skin under his hands, feel it and see if it was as hot as it seemed, and he wanted to turn around and push his face into the perfect curve of Billy's neck where it met his shoulder, where Billy smelled the best and Elijah fit perfectly.

He was hyperaware of Billy's fingers still inside him, perfectly still but laden with potential, and his body wanted to rock back, push hard, _drive_ himself onto them -- God, the idea of that, of fucking himself on Billy's fingers, sent heat to both his cock and his face -- and his body clenched with want of it. "Shh, settle down," Billy soothed, the hand on Elijah's belly stroking in long, slow sweeps from navel to nipples. Elijah couldn't sort out whether he wanted to whimper or growl, those urges were too tangled up, so he just sighed and tried to relax a little, tried to settle down, but, God, it was _hard_.

Dom touched Elijah's face, fingertips ghosting lightly along his cheek for a moment, and knelt down in front of him. Dom looked different again, his eyes were soft and open now, and he was smiling a little when he curled his fingers under Elijah's chin and pressed the side of his thumb to Elijah's lips. Dom traced the curve of his lower lip, and pressed lightly. The touch made them sting a little, like they were badly chapped, and then throb as the pressure of Dom's thumb increased, like he was pressing against a fresh bruise.

 _Oh,_ Elijah thought, and the heat pooled in his groin did something odd, some kind of deep clench, and then rushed through the rest of him, expanded. His face felt hot, the blood agitated and just under the skin. Not just his face, either, but neck and chest as well. The tightness of his nipples was almost painful, and the light, fine hairs on the backs of his arm and on his legs seemed to prickle. Dom pressed again, not hard, really, but enough to make Elijah utter a breathy little gasp (what must his mouth _look_ like) because yeah, his lips were bruised, a little, it made sense. He felt mortified and excited at once, and he wanted to smile, because _Dom_ was clearly so taken by the sight of them, smile and maybe lick at them -- tease -- but he also felt wicked and wanton… and he liked feeling like that, the confused rush of shame and depravity, it was a fucking rush, it was fucking amazing. And maybe he couldn't explain his reaction -- couldn't really even begin to understand it -- but who the hell cared. Fuck it.

"Pretty," Dom murmured, and he was smirking again, eyes half-lidded and languidly sultry, but his voice was very gentle, like a caress.

 _It's all about dichotomy,_ Elijah thought, and was surprised there was enough of his mind that wasn't overwhelmed by lust to think at all. He was glad, a little though, because he had been trying to think about something, trying to capture some idea, since before they'd ever made it to the bathroom, and he couldn't think when they were touching him.

The thing was, he remembered that first night pretty fucking clearly -- albeit some bits more clearly than others -- and what kept coming back to him was Billy ( _"Stop it, Dominic._ ), the way Billy had just fucking…

 _"Dominic is topping you from the bottom, Elijah. Topping you from beneath **me**."_

Physically, it had been just like that. Elijah-Dom-Billy, a Dom sandwich, so he hadn't been looking for it to mean anything else. And in spite of all the other clues (God, he felt like a fucking idiot, what was he, _stupid_?) he hadn't drawn the right conclusions. Or maybe he just hadn't been equipped to make conclusions right then. But …

If that was right, then what the hell was _this_? And where the fuck did _he_ fit into it?

The whole thing, this whole scenario, seemed not-quite-right. Good, yes, fucking great, but Elijah's brain kept insisting that this was not the way things were supposed to go.

"Stop," Dom said. He was still smiling a little, but his eyes were very bright and direct, like he was trying to tell Elijah something. "Stop thinking about it so hard, 'Lijah." He sounded sympathetic.

It made Elijah want to clench his teeth and snarl at him.

"He can't help it," Billy murmured. He sounded amused -- when the fuck didn't he, after all -- but his hand on Elijah's belly continued to stroke, a gesture clearly intended to reassure him. "Just how he's made, Dommie." Billy kissed his shoulder lightly. "I can make it simpler for you, 'Lijah."

"How the fuck is this simpler?" Elijah demanded, but it didn't come out how he meant it to at all, more of an appeal than a demand.

"You don't have to think," Billy whispered, a taut caress against the curve of Elijah's ear. "You don't have to make decisions or consider consequences. I can do that for you. If you say you want that."

"In the bedroom," Dom added, but the qualifier wasn't really necessary. Elijah had already figured that out. "Or occasionally the bathroom," he grinned, and Elijah could almost feel Billy's attention shift from him to Dom. Even if he hadn't been able to, he would've been able to tell from Dom's face, the way the grin slowly eased away until he looked solemn, though not exactly cowed or repentant. Actually, Dom's eyes gleamed with what Elijah was pretty sure was silent challenge, but he didn't do anything. Was that for _his_ benefit? What would Dom have done if they hadn't been…?

The question was out of his mouth, articulated, before Elijah even thought to stop it. "What would he do if he wasn't trying to behave?"

Billy laughed, genuine and familiar, and brushed his lips against Elijah's cheek. Dom's eyes narrowed -- for a moment he looked like he was going to do _something_ , Elijah had no earthly idea what -- but then Billy said: "No." It was an abrupt bark of sound, loud so close to Elijah's ear, and he started a little. The tensed muscles in Dom's shoulders shifted. "You've had your fun, Dommie," Billy said flatly. "Don't." There was an uncertain moment in which Elijah was fairly sure Dom was going to behave badly -- and the truth was, he sort of wanted Dom to do something, wanted to see it -- but Dom just smirked a little, and his shoulders relaxed. "It's hard to tell what he'll do," Billy said after a few long moments. "Dominic is… unique."

Dom's smirk widened slightly, but he just settled back onto his heels.

"I think it's time we moved this into the bedroom," Billy said.

"Finally," Elijah muttered, and _ow_ , Billy's fingers bit hard into his hipbone, unmistakably punishing. "What the fuck," Elijah objected, growling, and he was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea, but he couldn't quite stop himself. He'd always combated uncertainty by going on the offensive, it was just habit. One that he was probably going to have to figure out how to break sometime soon, judging by the pressure of Billy's fingers curled around his hip and the sudden, sharp sting of Billy's teeth on his shoulder. "I just want you to fuck me," he said, a little breathless, not sure whether he meant it to be an excuse or a plea. He was only barely managing not to squirm and push back against Billy (onto Billy's frustratingly motionless fingers), and the pain of Billy's teeth pricking his skin inexplicably amplified that desire.

"I will," Billy said, sliding his tongue over what sure as hell felt like an impressive fucking bite-mark. "Eventually. Once you understand what you're asking for."

"I… I understand," Elijah stammered (irritated at the unsteadiness of his voice, aware that he always sounded like that when he wasn't sure about things). "I understand, I want it. How many fucking times do I have to say it?"

"Only once, Elijah," Billy said. "Only once, when it's _true_." Then Billy's lips were on his neck again and Elijah was squirming, unable to stop himself this time. He could see Dom, watching. Dom's cock was mostly hard again, and it still seemed to have the uncanny ability to drag Elijah's gaze directly to it. Dom's eyes were dark and covetous, but Elijah couldn't tell exactly what he was coveting. Maybe Dom didn't know either. "Stop. Stop, or I'll make you," Billy growled gutturally.

But how the fuck was he supposed to both understand what he was saying yes to, _and_ not think about it? What the fuck kind of sense did that make?

But Billy's voice was deadly earnest, and it didn't take a fucking genius to understand that antagonizing Billy when he sounded like that was insane. The idea of doing it made sweat prickle at his temples, actually. And Dom wasn't helping, his expression an unfathomable mixture of anticipation and sympathy.

"Stop," Billy whispered again, but an instant later Billy's teeth sank into Elijah's neck -- he bucked and let out a startled yelp, mother _fucker_ that hurt -- and Billy's fingers were moving inside him, not just moving but pushing hard and twisting cunningly. Elijah wasn't sure, but it seemed like he was trying to pull away from Billy's mouth and press back onto his fingers at the same time, and there was some sort of desperately plaintive whine caught in his throat that he didn't want to release, but he didn't think he could hold back long. "Stop thinking," Billy growled, and turned his fingers hard; Elijah's hips twisted up and shuddered, and his whole body tightened, breath frozen in his lungs. "Stop trying to be in control of this, Elijah," Billy demanded, and his fingers coiled again, jabbing, and Elijah couldn't keep his eyes open, couldn't keep the moan locked in his throat any longer. "Give it to me," Billy whispered, lips moving against Elijah's throat, and Billy's hand (and Dom's hands, too, he thought, but wasn't sure and couldn't get his eyes open to look) on his hips made it impossible for him to push back and _take_ (because he wasn't supposed to do that, he was supposed to give, give to Billy…).

He couldn't process the pain of Billy's teeth mingled with the pleasure of Billy's fingers inside him, couldn't separate them, they seemed to be all intertwined, all tangled together so it was just _sensation_ , and he thought he was going to, he didn't think he could stop… "Billy!" he gasped, panicky and uncertain, and then Dom was kissing him (yes, Dom's hands were definitely holding his hips) and he was muttering into Dom's mouth ("Please, Dom, please, yes, tell Billy… make Billy…") while Dom nipped at his lips.

"Good," Billy breathed, and he sounded so fucking satisfied, pleased, and that was somehow all mixed up with it, too, that made Elijah's balls tighten and his cock jerk in needy synchronicity with his heartbeat, and he felt like he was going to die, caught between them, a writhing mess of skin and nerve-endings, and it was so much, so fucking _much_. "So good. Elijah, God," Billy whispered, and Billy's voice stretched and twisted Elijah's name into something almost reverent, "you're so fucking _beautiful_ when you give, want you like you can't fucking comprehend, make you whimper like that until you scream, 'Lijah, give it, let me, come on."

He couldn't gulp in enough breath to warn them or object. He cried out, wordless and helpless, caught in their hands and against their bodies, and arched convulsively ("Oh, fuck!" Dom snarled, his voice a perfect, shocking assault), the clenching, driving force of release pulling whimpers from his throat (and he could still feel Billy's lips against his throat, could still feel the heat of his clever tongue) as he thrashed and shuddered.

He slumped back against Billy, stunned and voiceless, gasping in deep and necessary lung-fulls of air, dripping sweat and shaking. Dom was staring at him, his mouth slightly agape. Billy's hand was stroking, slow and steady, up and down Elijah's left arm, and he let that soothe him as his breathing slowed and evened out.

And for a while, he wasn't thinking.

Billy withdrew his fingers, left hand still almost petting Elijah's arm, and Elijah shivered a little at the abruptness ( _abandoned_ , he thought, but he wasn't sure why). He watched Dom, sort of idly, feeling soft and wrung out and warm, comfortable against Billy's chest while Billy shifted slightly, doing something out of Elijah's line of sight. He wasn't really curious as to what. Dom was smiling -- though there was still something about his face that made him look oddly surprised -- so Elijah smiled back. The smile felt funny on his face, sort of soft and mellow and… effortless.

Huh.

"Can I?" Dom said, and Elijah didn't have to puzzle over whom Dom was speaking to. He felt Billy nod; his stubbly cheek brushed against Elijah's when he did it, and it made his skin prickle like the sharp sting of unexpectedly cold water zinging over his skin. It spread from the point of contact, shivering across his skin like ripples on the surface of a pond. He sighed a little, perfectly relaxed -- more perfectly relaxed than he could ever remember being, actually -- and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, Dom was kneeling in front of him, just looking. Dom looked soft, too, soft like Elijah felt, like un-fired clay. He wanted to touch Dom -- run his hands across the angles of Dom's chest, drag fingertips across the stubble on Dom's jaw (which was rougher, scratchier, than the almost-soft feel of Billy's unshaved cheek, still whispering against Elijah's), push his palms into the hard muscles of Dom's back -- but it wasn't an urgent feeling, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant not to be able to do it.

His hands curled dormant at the small of his back (where he could feel the downy hair below Billy's navel against the side of his right hand and the sleek and silken skin of the head of Billy's cock against the back of his left), content to just rest against Billy's chest.

"Have you done that before?" Billy asked, but before Elijah could answer the question (he couldn't have anyhow, he wasn't sure what Billy meant), Dom had bent himself neatly in half and was licking at Elijah's belly, tongue soft and hot. He was looking up at Elijah while he did it, and he wasn't smiling, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled up with amusement.

"What?" Elijah asked, distracted, barely curious.

"Come like that." His lips pressed softly against Elijah's shoulder, nuzzling. "Without touching your cock."

 _Oh._

"I…" he said, but then he wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't realized he _had_. "Um…" He could feel his cheeks heating up again, self-conscious embarrassment.

"Nevermind," Billy whispered, and his left hand slid up Elijah's arm to curl around his jaw, turning his face toward Billy.

Billy studied his face for several long moments. Elijah was aware of Dom, his hands resting on Elijah's thighs, his mouth on Elijah's skin, and he was aware of Billy's right hand curling around his hip, as though anticipating having to hold Elijah still again. Billy blinked slowly, the green glitter of his eyes momentarily concealed by ginger lashes, and then bent to kiss him. It was long and thorough, just the heat of Billy's lips and tongue combined with the heat of Billy's body against his back and the heat of Dom's mouth on his skin. It wasn't the same as it had been before, though. The edge of impatience had been subdued -- temporarily, at least -- and it was easy to let himself go in it for long, mindless seconds.

Dom's tongue on the head of his cock jolted him out of that, made him whimpergasp surprise into Billy's mouth, and Billy's fingers tightened on Elijah's hip. Billy made a sound, quiet and contented; Elijah could feel the vibration of it in Billy's chest against his back. Dom's tongue traveled an erratic course across his belly again, then revisited the sensitive skin of Elijah's cock, making his hips twist up. _Cleaning me up,_ he thought, and he groaned a little, abruptly and painfully aroused again at the idea. Dom's mouth lingered on the head of Elijah's cock (lapping at it, long, languid swipes of Dom's gifted tongue, but not sucking, and, oh God, why was that so fucking _hot_?), then moved across his belly again, upward to lap at the skin stretched over his lowest ribs.

He could feel his cock hardening again (he'd stopped being surprised at how quickly he could recover on the second night), his balls growing tight and heavy as the low grind of desire renewed itself in his belly. He missed Billy's fingers, missed them enough that he felt only a bare remnant of shame at the way he'd pushed back on them, barely a tingle, but what he really wanted was Billy's cock (God, yes, God he wanted it, inside him), he was ready to fucking beg if he had to, and… wait… _was_ he supposed to?

No sooner had he thought it (bright in his mind like the flash of a lightbulb over a cartoon-character's head), than he was doing it. "Yes, okay, I understand enough to know that the answer is yes, Billy, please." His voice sounded urgent and muffled -- his lips still against Billy's -- and he was a little amazed at how easy it was. Not that it wasn't slightly humiliating -- it was, a little, in a sexy, dirty kind of way -- but how that didn't especially bother him. "Please," he sighed, and licked at Billy's lips, which were still and slightly parted against his. "Please, now, fuck me now, Billy, please."

"Mmm," Billy hummed back, but aside from that and the quick invasion of his tongue into Elijah's mouth, he did nothing, and it was driving Elijah crazy, fucking _driving him insane._ Dom's tongue was proceeding upward across Elijah's chest (high enough that Elijah was fairly sure Dom had finished with the clean-up; it didn't seem likely that he'd spattered himself that high) and across his collarbones. He wanted to squirm closer to Dom -- his cock was bumping against Dom's thigh, and he wanted to press it against the muscle there and just fucking _grind_ \-- but he wasn't sure he was supposed to do that. His head was spinning with the understanding that there were rules at play here that he didn't know, and he wanted to know. Badly.

"Please," he mumbled again, and wasn't it funny how the low awareness of the ache in his neck produced by the way his head was wrenched back to kiss Billy, and the tingling, abraded skin of his wrists only served to make him want _more_? He was surprised into uttering a frankly humiliating little sound of needy disappointment when Billy pulled back. It was quickly smothered by Dom, though, Dom's lips, and the two of them kissed differently (wasn't that odd, since they kissed one another so much, shouldn't it be more similar?), Dom's urgent fire (the sharp danger of Dom's nipping teeth -- not that Billy didn't bite, but it was more deliberate) versus Billy's carefully controlled heat: Bonfire versus blowtorch.

Elijah was caught between them and quickly incinerating, and that was fucking fine by him.

"Bedroom now," Billy said gruffly, but instead of immediately moving, Elijah felt the warm length of Billy's cock pressing hard against the curve of his ass. He murmured wordless approval into Dom's mouth, which sounded a lot like splintery pleading sounds, even to his own ears. "You don't know what if feels like to want like I want you, 'Lijah," Billy whispered against his ear, and the hoarse throb of it in Billy's voice was almost enough to make Elijah believe him. Elijah's cock seemed to believe Billy regardless -- Elijah felt like the grating need concentrated in his groin might kill him -- but he'd been living with want of his own for a long fucking time.

 _I know, I fucking know,_ he thought, but Dom's lips wouldn't allow speech, and Elijah didn't want it enough to break away from Dom. He just pressed back hard and didn't try to hold back the sounds rising in his chest, sounds that emerged as low, desperate groans, the kinds of sounds a person never really expected to hear themselves make because they were so reckless and pathetic, but Billy's cock jammed up against his ass was making him fucking _burn_.

"You don't," Billy said, maybe responding to Elijah's unspoken disagreement, maybe not. "But you will, Elijah. God, you _will_."

Billy stood -- Elijah's back was abruptly cold at the absence of Billy's body against it -- and Billy's hand curled around the back of Elijah's neck, fingers biting hard into the vulnerable sides. Dom's mouth was wrenched away quickly enough to make Elijah gasp, and Dom made an open-mouthed, wounded sort of whine that jolted him, sent heat to his cock in an unexpected wave that made his skin flush warmly, and then he was being hauled to his feet. He opened his eyes to see Dom scrambling up as well, Billy's other hand fisted in his hair.

 _Oh,_ he thought dumbly, and had time to think that it looked like it hurt (Dom's face was twisted into a wince) before Billy hissed, "Bedroom," again, and Elijah (and Dom too, he guessed, but he didn't actually see) was being pushedpulledshoved out the door and down the hall. He twisted a little (not to get away, just to see), and Billy's fingers clamped down harder, but not before he caught a glimpse of Dom, moving like he had no real problem adapting to being dragged by the hair, bent a little, as though to make it… easier for Billy? Whereas Elijah was stumbling, barely managing to stay upright, a clumsy stagger, and his body seemed to desperately want to squirm away from the steely grip of Billy's hand.

He was barely aware that they were approaching the bedroom door until Dom's hands came up and into his direct line of sight, pushing the door open. He couldn't help the little gasp that escaped him as Billy stopped, turning his body slightly, and shoved Dom inside. Dom pitched forward, staggering a little, but didn't fall, and then Billy was shoving Elijah inside after him, though without as much force.

"Get down," Billy said, softsharp, like velvet over glass, and let go of Elijah's neck. Elijah wasn't sure which of them Billy was talking to -- his belly was a-flutter again, that thing that was disturbingly close to actual fear -- and he didn't even have the presence or absence of pressure from Billy's hands to guide him. He was almost ( _almost_ ) curious enough about what would happen (what _would_ happen?) to stay on his feet and find out, but apparently some part of him didn't really like that idea, because he was sinking to his knees, barely aware of doing it until he could feel the short, dense fibers of the carpet prickling at his knees and shins. Dom was on his knees about four feet away, and all Elijah could hear was the sound of his own breathing. Billy had moved out of his line of sight, and he couldn't hear him moving around. He turned slightly to look, but caught a glimpse of Dom, wide-eyed, as he shook his head once, an abrupt, abbreviated gesture. Dom held Elijah's gaze, his face uncommonly solemn, his body abnormally still, and Elijah knew a warning when he saw one.

And Dom clearly understood Billy -- _this_ Billy -- better than Elijah did.

It was the change in Dom's focus that made Elijah think Billy was behind him, the slight shift of Dom's gaze, and then Elijah could feel him there, the back of his neck awash with prickling nerves. Billy's hands on his wrists startled him, and he went tense for several seconds, pulling the nylon cord taut. Billy's fingertips skated lightly over Elijah's forearms until Elijah finally relaxed a little, and then he could feel Billy untying the cord, tugging it away.

When his hands were free, Elijah didn't know what to do with them.

"Listen," Billy said, and his hands circled Elijah's left wrist, chaffing the skin gently. Elijah hissed at the burn of it, inexplicably surprised. Billy rubbed until most of the sting had faded, and then repeated the process with the right wrist. "You can stop this any time you want to," Billy finally said. "Do you understand that?" Billy's hands were extremely gentle, as was his voice. Elijah bit his lip and nodded. "No, say it out loud, 'Lijah. So I know you understand me."

"I can stop any time I want," Elijah repeated, a little taken aback by how his voice sounded to his own ears, simultaneously smoky with desire and unsteady with nerves.

"Yes," Billy approved, and then turned Elijah gently by the shoulders. "Let me see your hands."

Elijah brought his hands out from behind his back -- where they had remained even after Billy had stopped rubbing at his wrists -- and held them out. They were deeply red, marks from the cord encircling both of wrists, grooved into the skin, which was slightly abraded around the indentations. Except for the burn of the abrasions, which clearly connected them with _him_ , they seemed almost to belong to someone else. They were detached from him. He looked at them with interest that seemed almost academic.

"All right? No numbness?"

Elijah shook his head, then added, "No," because he wasn't sure if he was still supposed to be talking out loud. They did tingle a bit, a mild case of pins and needles, but he could feel them. Still, they didn't seem to be his hands, not like his shoulders, which ached a little at the unaccustomed strain, and felt very much like they belonged to him. He was oddly unwilling to mention either of those things. He didn't want Billy to think he was complaining.

Billy lifted one of Elijah's hands, peering at the abrasions -- the indentations from the cord looked deeper up close, and generated uneasy heat in Elijah's cheeks -- and Billy was looking at them a little distantly, too, as if merely interested, eyes intent and studious, but his face clean of anything except maybe mild curiosity. It made it even more of a shock when Billy turned Elijah's wrist over, exposing the underside (which, Elijah observed, felt even _less_ like his, because he'd never in his life been unable to see the faint tracery of blue veins that ran just under the thin skin just there, and currently all he could see were deep, purple-red grooves and pinkened, irritated skin surrounding them), and dipped his head down to run his tongue over the skin. Elijah hissed, abruptly stunned and light-headed at the sizzle of pain and heat on skin that was quite demonstrably his own, but the feel of it altered almost immediately, the uncomfortable prickle of it sliding into something oddly soothing.

"Your skin tastes red," Billy murmured throatily, and Elijah's breath caught somewhere between lungs and lips. Billy ghosted the fingertips of one hand along Elijah's jaw, and Elijah tipped his head into it, not quite able to stop himself. "Be still," Billy said, and dragged his thumb from Elijah's jaw down the side of his throat, eyes glittering as he followed the movement. "God, you're beautiful." He pressed firmly against Elijah's throat with the pad of his thumb, and then pulled it back, just looking.

People had been telling Elijah that for as long as he could remember. It hardly phased him anymore, and he tried not to let it matter too much. Still, he could feel the pleasure simmering gently in his belly, and couldn't help that it mattered. It mattered when Billy said it. Especially when he said it like that. "Th-thank you," Elijah managed to reply, a sort of choked and stammering whisper, but better than nothing.

Billy smiled, though, and said: "Look, Dommie. He's already got better manners than you."

Elijah glanced at Dom, expecting a wisecrack at the very least, but Dom was silent and still. Elijah frowned slightly, and took a breath to say something, but gasped instead, because one of Billy's hands closed firmly around one of Elijah's wrists, pressing harshly against the abrasions there. "I said be _still_ , Elijah," Billy reminded him, frowning, and Elijah thought, _Oh!_ , surprised, but not entirely sure why.

"What's wrong with him?" he murmured, because Dom was unquestionably acting weird (and the fact that Billy had just given Dom a narrow glance only made Elijah more certain of that), and because he was fairly sure that "be still" didn't mean "be quiet." He thought that Billy was the sort of guy to be pretty meticulous about specifying which he meant (and for reasons unknown, that was a comfort).

"Showing off a bit, I expect," Billy said dismissively, his fingertips still gliding over Elijah's throat. He didn't look at Dom again; instead his eyes were focused on his own fingers on Elijah's skin. Elijah swallowed past the blockage in his throat, and watched Billy's eyes follow the movement of his Adam's apple. He could see Dom, though, just at the edges of his vision, and he wondered if Billy was aware of the little curl of a sneer on Dom's lips, the dark gleam of his eyes as he watched them.

 _He is,_ Elijah thought. _He knows, he's doing that on purpose; ignoring Dom on purpose. Why?_ But he didn't ask.

"Get up on the bed," Billy said, and his tongue slid lightly over his lower lip. Elijah's gaze was drawn to the shine, and he could feel himself leaning forward, wanting it, wanting to run _his_ tongue over the curve of Billy's lip. It wasn't exactly intentional, but he didn't try to stop himself when he found himself doing it, either, and Billy didn't seem inclined to try and stop him. He only got to taste it for a moment though, the barest graze of his tongue, before Billy's fingertips slid to the side of Elijah's throat and he could feel Billy's whole hand, the press of his thumb against one side and fingertips on the other. It was tight enough to be uncomfortable, though not enough to actually cut off his breath. It was enough to still him, though, and enough to make his eyes flutter closed on their own. _Oh,_ he thought again, and still didn't know what it meant, that he kept thinking that. "On the bed, I said," Billy murmured, and squeezed lightly at Elijah's throat. "Now."

"Yes," Elijah sighed, and opened his eyes to struggle to his feet shakily. He completely forgot he could use his hands ( _right, I have hands, heh_ ) until Billy slid a hand under his elbow to help him up, and then balancing was a little easier.

The scent of wood polish was strong this close to Billy's bed, and he'd always wondered why such a short person would want such a tall bed, the sort that Elijah had to brace himself with his hands on the mattress to climb up onto, and Billy was no taller than him, surely he had to do the same thing.

Billy didn't though, apparently, or at least he could do it a lot more sexily than Elijah could, balancing his weight on the knuckles of one curled fist while he slid smoothly ( _predator_ , Elijah thought, and his mouth went dry and his balls seemed to spasm and clench in approval) up onto the mattress where Elijah was kneeling and shivering and still feeling the ghost of Billy's hand curled around his throat. He could feel Dom watching them as well, and the feeling was like being stretched physically between the two of them, even though Dom was several feet away. He had to force himself not to turn his head and look.

"Back," Billy said, and pushed gently at Elijah's shoulders. Elijah let himself be doubled backward, his legs trapped beneath his weight until his shoulders touched the mattress, and he could feel the stretch of his body in his thighs and the muscles of his stomach. Billy's fingers skated lightly over his belly for an instant, and Elijah's skin reacted as if it were cold, tightening into goose bumps, but his face heated up instantly, a rush of ferocious want. A moment later, Billy was hovering over him, not touching (but Elijah could feel the tingle of almost-contact over every inch of skin), and the smell of wood polish was completely overwhelmed by the smell of Billy. Elijah couldn't get enough breath without gasping through his open mouth (and Billy wasn't even fucking _touching_ him yet, wasn't even…). Billy seemed to take his open mouth as an invitation -- although maybe Billy didn't actually _need_ an invitation, maybe it was just convenient for him, yeah, that felt right -- and dipped down to take advantage of it, incidentally cutting off Elijah's supply of oxygen. Elijah didn't mind, he thought he could breathe Billy, the slide of his lips and the insistent press of his tongue, and never mind how he could hear himself whining when Billy sucked Elijah's tongue into his mouth, never mind how he could feel himself arching upward needily until he felt the head of Billy's cock graze his belly, slick (and he gasped at the feel of Billy's precome on his skin, yes, evidence of Billy's desire, he wanted that, needed it, please) and warm until Billy curled a hand around Elijah's hip and pressed him back down.

"You can stop any time," Billy murmured, lips slick and moving against Elijah's.

"Okay," Elijah agreed, only vaguely aware of what it was he'd just agreed to as Billy's hand slid away from his hip to explore the ridges of his ribs, brusque and possessive, the calloused pads of Billy's fingers scratching lightly at his skin. He had no intention of stopping anything, no matter how many times Billy reminded him that -- theoretically anyway -- he could.

"Okay," Billy repeated, and his fingers found one of Elijah's nipples, grazed, then closed on it hard enough to make Elijah's whimper against Billy's lips. "Then arch for me, 'Lijah." There wasn't really time to be puzzled. Even as Billy said it, his fingers went tighter around Elijah's nipple, not just pinching but twisting and pulling upward, and Elijah's back came up off the bed without any need to think about it. Billy's hands guided Elijah's body into obedience -- the one pulling hard at Elijah's nipple, the other curling at the small of his back and pressing upward -- without any real need for Elijah's mind to be involved, which was good, as Elijah's mind was elsewhere, had stepped out, and hadn't even left a note. "More than that," Billy said -- he sounded detached, almost clinical -- and Elijah did, Elijah pushed himself into almost painful extension, because Billy wanted, Billy said, and he had already promised himself that he wouldn't stop, and the bright, sheer pain of over-extended muscle did not preclude the pulse and throb of want centered around his groin and radiating through the rest of him, and because he could hear Dom murmuring, wordless but approving. He didn't want the cool and distant quality in Billy's voice, he wanted to hear Billy warm and approving again, wanting Elijah again, and he could get that, if he could do this he could get that, he _knew_ that if nothing else.

Billy's fingertips whispered over the insides of Elijah's thighs, maddening, barely a caress, but enough to make him shake because it took concentration, it took so much fucking will to stay up, to maintain a position this demanding, his thighs and shoulders supporting all of his weight, and he could feel them both watching him, the tingle of Dom's gaze and the burn of Billy's, and he closed his eyes tightly, as if to block them out (which didn't work, of course, couldn't work, as it hadn't been something he had seen to begin with). His back was on fire and his thighs were shuddering with effort, and he didn't know what to do with his hands, which were curled into knots of effort.

Billy's mouth against his belly was enough of a shock to wrest a strangled obscenity from between his lips and a reactionary tensing -- further tensing -- of every muscle in his body, actually raising him up an inch or two higher as his skin sought the heat of Billy's lips. It would've lasted only a moment, but Billy's hand splayed at the small of his back and the soft murmur of approval from Billy's throat communicated -- wordlessly, and without actually _pressing_ upward, without actually supporting any of Elijah's weight -- the unequivocal understanding that he was to stay _up_ , stay arched. He groaned softly, and it sounded pathetic, almost a whine (and he would have blushed furiously at hearing himself make such a sound if his face were not already hot with exertion), but he couldn't help it. His whole body was quivering, straining, and he wouldn't be able to hold himself like this for long. He was flexible, but the position had less to do with flexibility than endurance, and Dom, he thought, would probably be better at it, Dom was stronger and just as flexible, and for some reason that though made him grind his teeth and snarl a little, and grimly maintain the position.

Billy licked down his belly -- less than an inch from where Elijah's cock twitched against it -- and over his hip, quick little jabs of his tongue, as though he was merely exploring the flavor of Elijah's skin, seeing what he tasted like when he was sweating and shaking and doing everything he could to please Billy. He wasn't truly surprised to feel Billy's teeth -- he knew enough to recognize Billy's affinity for biting by now -- but it startled him anyway, and he pulled back reflexively, hips lowering, until Billy pressed up hard at the small of his back and growled softly against Elijah's skin. Elijah heard himself making a sound, something senseless and helpless, and tensed again, obeying even though Billy's teeth were still sending shocking jolts of bright pain across the skin and muscle of his hip.

There were several feverish seconds during which Elijah was sure he wasn't going to be able to stay up, wasn't going to be able to still the reflexive retreat from pain, as well as maintain the tenuous control he was keeping over the muscles of his back and thighs (shuddering with effort and threatening to give out at any moment). Just before he lost it completely, however, Billy stopped biting and started licking again, and Elijah could, he could hold it, and he thought Billy knew that, had done it on purpose, and he thought he was hard-wired into a state of extreme arousal.

No matter what happened, he was pretty sure his cock was going to interpret it as a good thing (and yeah, Billy was alternately biting and licking now, and it was unnervingly hard to tell the difference, and Elijah's hips, already arched as high as they could go, kept trying to push up into Billy's mouth), and if that was true, if it was so, did that make it a good thing? Was there really any difference between Billy's tongue and Billy's teeth, if Elijah's body reacted the same to both?

He opened his eyes to look at Billy (because he should look different, shouldn't he, he should be bigger or something…), and Billy was already looking at him (he wasn't surprised) intently, eyes brilliantly green, lips curved into a smile that was almost gentle ( _fearsomely gentle,_ Elijah thought, though he didn't understand that). "Stay up," Billy murmured, and Elijah didn't even consider trying to do otherwise, not with Billy looking at him like that, focused and smiling. "So fucking pretty. Stay up for me, 'Lijah," he said again, and his voice, his tone, God, Elijah needed that, _needed_ it.

"Yes," Elijah hissed, acknowledgement and agreement, and he didn't bother to take his straining muscles into account, they didn't matter, it didn't matter, the word escaped him without a single reservation, because he wanted to do it, wanted to please Billy and feel the warmth of his approval again.

He saw movement behind Billy, and had barely realized it was Dom (and Dom's face was deeply intense, Dom was looking at him, staring like Dom wanted something, wanted it desperately) before Billy's hand was gone from the small of Elijah's back and the bed shifted as Billy's weight left it. Even though he hadn't actually been supporting Elijah's weight, the combination of the lack of Billy's hand and the shifting of the mattress destabilized Elijah; he fought to stay up for endless seconds (but he was distracted, because Billy, because Dom…) but he couldn't do it. His thighs gave out with a burning spasm, and he collapsed, panting for breath, with apologies and excuses hovering on his tongue. He didn't let them past his lips, however; Billy wasn't looking at him.

He was looking at Dom, _glaring_ at Dom, and Elijah wasn't sure if he should just wait for Billy to tell him what to do, or… "What the fuck do you think you're doing," Billy growled softly, interrupting Elijah's train of thought (such as it was), and Elijah was certain he was talking to Dom, but his hand was on Elijah's thigh, still and firm, and he understood exactly what that meant. Be still and wait.

So Elijah did nothing.

Dom turned away from Elijah as though reluctant to do it, his eyes still fixed on him for a few moments even after the rest of Dom had turned to face Billy.

"I…" he said, and then hesitated, as if only just noticing the look on Billy's face. He swallowed visibly (and Elijah thought: _That was careless,_ ), and Elijah couldn't look away from them, had practically forgotten that he was naked and needy, because the way they were _looking_ at each other… "I just wanted to see," Dom whispered. But his expression clearly indicated that he knew he'd made a mistake.

 _How far?_ Elijah wondered. _How far do they go?_ He was intensely curious as to the answer (and his imagination was filling in some possibilities, most of which were probably pretty outrageous but made his cock twitch anyhow), but he still flinched, shocked, when Billy's hand came up and twisted into Dom's hair. Billy jerked downward hard and fast, and Dom yelped, a brief, unwilling sort of sound, surprise and pain, and sort of folded down onto his knees. It was odd, an odd-looking motion, because it was obviously a reaction to Billy's hand in Dom's hair, but it was also strangely… graceful. Practiced. Like Dom's body recognized it, and knew exactly what to do.

Which it probably did, of course, and Elijah's cock was doing celebratory push-ups against his belly, because it was a relief, it was reassuring to recognize that. To see that this was new only to him, that both of them were familiar and comfortable with it. Billy was looking at Dom, his face still set into harsh lines, but he was obviously not angry, and he was completely prepared for this, Elijah could see that, like it was expected, and he knew just what to do. Dom, too, though it was a little different, because Dom _did_ look nervous, as he licked at his lips and watched Billy from beneath flickering lashes. But he didn't look confused. Not in the slightest. He looked edgy, but not like he didn't know what was going on. He might not know exactly what was going to happen next -- probably didn't, Elijah guessed -- but he knew in general. The situation itself seemed to be one with which he was intimately familiar. His head was tipped back into Billy's grip and his knees were spread just wide enough to take his weight as comfortably as possible. His hands were loose curls at his sides, open and lax, not defending or anxious in the least.

 _Okay,_ Elijah thought, and he was not surprised to find himself grinning. He was fucking elated, and yes it was mixed with nerves and a little of what might have been actual fear, but for the most part, it was a good feeling. A fucking _great_ feeling.

"What do I have to do to make you fucking listen, Dommie?" Billy asked quietly, and Elijah couldn't help but admire all the different subtleties at play. The gentle lull of Billy's tone was in direct opposition to the fierce-white of his knuckles wound into Dom's hair, the calm, thoughtful expression on his face belying the slight edge of threat audible at the edges of his words. "A blindfold, maybe?" His tone was musing, like he was just thinking out loud, but Dom tensed like he was spring-loaded, full body. Billy seemed not to notice, but Elijah didn't believe that, not for an instant. "Maybe if you _can't_ see, you'll remember what I asked you to do."

"Don't," Dom whispered hoarsely, and his voice quavered. "Don't do that," he repeated, his voice a little steadier, more throaty than hoarse now, though it still bordered on pleading.

"Whoa," Elijah said, completely without intent, and then bit down hard on his bottom lip when Billy turned to look at him. Dom, he noted, continued to look at Billy. Elijah thought that was very wise of him. Billy's hand had tightened on Elijah's thigh, fingertips digging into the muscle just above the knee, and Elijah had to clench his teeth to keep from making some kind of noise that felt suspiciously like it wanted to be breathless giggles -- he was quite ticklish just there. Billy's hand stayed that way for long seconds, ten, twenty (and Elijah could see Dom stealing glances at Elijah from the corner of his eye), thirty, and Billy looked at him the entire time, just stared at him. Elijah had to struggle to return Billy's regard (and even then, he wasn't sure what the fuck he was doing, was he supposed to look back, or was he supposed to look away?), but eventually Billy's grip loosened and he turned back to Dom again.

"I wonder what Elijah thinks of that," Billy said, and Dom's eyes darted nervously toward Elijah. It was barely a movement, but Billy's hand tightened and twisted in Dom's hair, and Dom's face twisted in pain, and Elijah twisted, too, with shocky pleasure and something that felt like it might be envy, though he couldn't tell which one of them he was envying, just at present. "I'm going to have my hands full with the two of you," Billy murmured, his voice made momentarily familiar with amusement. "Can't keep your eyes off of each other."

Elijah forced his eyes back to Billy -- why hadn't he ever realized that Dom's face, twisted with pain and effort, was one of the most erotic things imaginable? -- but Billy was still looking at Dom, and he had that look on his face again, the one that was both tender and deadly, and Elijah felt that quiver of almost-envy, the desire to both have that look turned on him, and to be the one turning that look onto Dom. He might have devoted a few seconds to pondering that, except Billy turned to look at him again, and he devoted his attention to Billy instead.

"What do you think, Elijah? Blindfold?"

The question seemed straight forward enough, but Elijah hesitated anyhow. He wasn't sure what sort of answer Billy was looking for, and he could see Dom, just at the edge of his vision, regarding Elijah with wide eyes. Dom looked distinctly more nervous, as though he was less sure of what to expect, now that Elijah's opinion on the matter had been solicited.

Since he wasn't sure, he chose to go with his first impulse. "I'd rather you didn't," he said honestly, and Billy's brows arched slightly, a question. "I… I like it that he can see. I can feel it when he looks at me."

He wasn't actually embarrassed about it until Dom shifted slightly (and Elijah's eyes were drawn toward him like magnets, dammit, he couldn't seem to help it), his eyes wide and surprised for a moment, then dropping down to half-mast, his face shifting subtly into sultry satisfaction. Elijah jerked his eyes back to Billy -- he wished, just for a moment, that he'd said something else, urged Billy to do it, just to see the nervous dismay on Dom's face -- his cheeks heating up (again). It didn't help much; Billy was not smiling, but dark amusement glimmered in his eyes, and one brow was slightly arched still. "You're safe, for the moment, Dominic," Billy said, his gaze still leveled on Elijah. "'Lijah likes to feel your eyes on him."

Elijah was blushing in earnest now, and the urge to look away was strong. He managed not to give into it by the simple expedient of locking his jaw and neck muscles, The warmth of his cheeks was echoed lower, in the deepest places in his belly, and he wondered if you could actually die from prolonged sexual frustration. Never mind the fact that he had come a quarter of an hour ago with Billy's fingers inside him and nothing touching his cock. That seemed like years ago.

Billy smiled faintly, like he knew what Elijah was thinking -- it wouldn't have surprised Elijah much at this point -- and turned back to Dom. "Don't push me any more, Dominic," he murmured, and tugged at Dom's hair. Dom's head rocked back and his mouth opened slightly, a soundless gasp. "Not today." As he said it, he tugged upward, and Dom struggled up to his feet, but not entirely upright. Elijah could see Billy's biceps bunching as he held Dom, quivering, in a sort of half-crouch, something that looked like it would be hell on the thighs and back. Dom was breathing hard, cords standing out in sharp relief in the sturdy column of his throat, and Elijah couldn't keep his eyes on Billy, couldn't keep his eyes _off_ of Dom, and he was fairly sure Billy was fucking doing that on purpose.

If he was, though, he didn't do anything about it. At least not yet. Instead, he bent, jerking Dom's head back as he did, and kissed Dom furiously, kissed him like it was punishment for unknown transgressions (at least unknown to Elijah), and Elijah could hear the singularly riveting sound of Dom whining softly, his hands spread at his sides and curling in the air, grasping at nothing, while the big muscles in his thighs flexed and shivered.

 _Holy shit,_ Elijah thought stupidly, unable to formulate anything more coherent. _Oh, oh shit, oh holy **fuck**!_ He rose up to his elbows to watch (in some part of his mind, he was sure he wasn't supposed to do that, but Christ, he had to, he fucking _had_ to), the tightening in his belly almost unnoticed this time, it was so familiar. God, they were fucking beautiful, God, the way Billy's jaw shifted and clenched (he was biting, Elijah was sure) and the way Dom's body trembled ( _God, did I look like that, did I? Jesus Fucking Christ, I **couldn't** have_!), and Elijah was rising up to his knees before he could consider the wisdom of that plan, rising and leaning forward, because he just wanted to fucking touch them.

He jerked his hand back quickly when Billy pulled away from Dom (suddenly enough that Dom gasped brokenly) and turned on Elijah, but there was no way to conceal what he had been about to do, no way to reason it away. Billy cocked his head slightly to one side, his expression darkly neutral as he looked at Elijah. Elijah curled his hands into loose fists to still them, and said nothing. He had no earthly idea what he could possibly say.

There was a red smear of blood on Billy's lower lip, and Elijah couldn't look away from it. He watched, fascinated, as Billy's tongue swiped over it, licking it away. He licked at his own lips in turn, his mouth suddenly dry, but filled with the taste of Billy's blood again, the warm and salty-sweet richness of it. Billy's eyes flickered, something fleeting that Elijah couldn't identify. "You want that?" he asked throatily, and Elijah shivered at the question, at the luxuriant timbre of Billy's voice, and nodded, ignoring the unimportant fact that he wasn't sure what it was, exactly, that he wanted. He might have missed it had he not already been staring, might have missed the enticing and subtle tremor in Billy's body as he reached out a hand, offering it to Elijah. "Come here, then," he husked, and Elijah took his hand. Alert to it now, he could feel the slightly unsteady quiver of Billy's muscles.

Not nerves, Elijah was fairly sure. Restraint. The physical manifestation of Billy's self-control.

And, God, he wanted to undo that, wanted to be the reason Billy came undone. "Billy," he sighed, and slid off the edge of the bed, blinded by want, his intention to simply wrap himself around Billy, feel the crisp texture of Billy's chest hair pressed against the his own chest, feel the press of Billy's cock against hip or belly -- it didn't really matter which -- and the hot, uneven gust of Billy's breath on his skin. His eyes were full of the pale glow of Billy's skin -- an in-between shade, neither as white as his own, nor as richly golden as Dom's -- and the visible ripple of the muscles beneath that skin, especially where it was stretched taut, belly and forearms and neck. "Billy," he repeated, and he was within inches of his goal, the heat of Billy's skin warming him, when Billy's hands stopped him, redirected him, and he choked back an objection that probably would have had the sound of a needy whine (as words seemed to have escaped him), but he wasn't really surprised.

He'd have to be unforgivably stupid not to have figured out by now that Billy's self-control was more than just skin-deep, and tended to spill over onto him and onto Dom, making up for their lack. Admirable, if frustrating, and Elijah didn't fight him in spite of the bitter little lurch of disappointment in his belly. He let Billy's hands press him down onto his knees, facing Dom on the floor, close enough to draw his attention away from Billy and to Dom instead (was it whichever of them was closest?), and he was a little surprised to find his face on level with Dom's. He forgot, sometimes, that Dom was bigger than him, wider, but not really taller, especially not like this, on their knees. He wasn't sure when Billy had let Dom go back down, but Billy's hand was still fisted in Dom's hair, and his face was still twisted into a slight grimace, which Elijah took to mean Billy was still pulling, at least a little. Elijah blinked softly, abruptly and bizarrely shy at being this close to Dom, close enough that with only a little effort, their cocks would brush (and as if that thought had drawn his attention utterly, Elijah's eyes drifted down to Dom's cock, red and thick, seeping visibly, and saliva flooded his mouth for the second time in less than an hour at the sight of it, and he felt dizzy with the desire to taste him again).

"Take it, then," Billy murmured from above them. Elijah's eyes rose guiltily back to Dom's face, then higher up, to Billy's, and Billy was watching him, watching them both, as if merely interested in seeing what they would do.

He wasn't sure _what_ to do, wasn't even all that sure how he'd ended up here, like this, until Dom hissed softly and Elijah's gaze was drawn back to his face. Dom's eyes were closed, his brow deeply furrowed, his head tilted slightly back (Billy's knuckles were white again, which explained that); his tongue darted out to prod at his lower lip, his brows contracting even further, as though in pain. _Oh,_ Elijah thought, the sight of the blood on Billy's lip vivid again in his memory, and yes, he could see the little cut on Dom's lip, could see what Billy's teeth had done, and he remembered the question, remembered his own answer, and he was leaning forward and into Dom before he'd really processed it (he didn't want to process it, he could think later, he could ask questions later), and biting down on Dom's tongue before it could escape back into his mouth.

Dom gasped ("ah!") softly, a sound that made Elijah's hips arch forward, slamming his cock against Dom's belly, and he was kissing Dom like he had never kissed anyone, like he'd never even really _thought_ about kissing anyone, like he wanted to devour him (he did), like he wanted to absorb him (yes), and the sound of Dom's soft mewl of surprise and the tang of Dom's blood on his tongue was enough to make his mind go dark and cutting, a foreign place where the landmarks were abruptly shadowed and unfamiliar. He wrapped his hands around Dom's upper arms, more just to feel him than to hold Dom still (Dom wasn't fucking going anywhere, Dom was folding like fucking paper under the assault of Elijah's lips, and that was good, yeah, made him feel fierce and vicious, _strong_ ), and pushed harder against the solid barrier of Dom's chest, felt Dom give and lean back, hands moving behind him to support them both (Elijah could feel it in the flex of Dom's biceps under his hands) as Elijah straddled Dom's thighs and absorbed the feel of the panicky fluttering of Dom's breath as he fought for it amidst the feverish activity of lips and teeth and tongues.

Some distant part of his mind was wondering if Dom would push back. That Dom did push back, and often, wasn't even a question, and he could feel the tension in Dom's chest and shoulders, could feel that Dom _wanted_ to push back, in spite of what Billy had said, and that only made him want to push harder, push until Dom's control over himself broke, and the taste of wanting that was the same as the taste of Dom's blood on his tongue, and he wanted to see what Billy would do, wanted to witness it.

That thought, shooting like a bright meteor across the dark haze of his mind, was what drew him back, made him pull away from Dom, because he wanted to see Billy _hurt_ Dom, wanted to see more of it, and that want left him shaken and shaking.

Dom had one hand curled around the back of Billy's knee, as if to steady himself, Elijah saw, and felt a bright and cutting ripple of that _need_ flare in his gut at the sight of it. Dom's eyes were wide and fixed on Elijah. He didn't look surprised so much as he looked utterly defenseless, his need raw on his face, in the lines of his body; he trembled and looked at Elijah like he was a captivating stranger.

"Help," he said, and jerked his gaze away from Dom, sending one hand out to grope for Billy, for strength or support, or reassurance, he didn't know. He closed his eyes for a moment, gulping in great, gasping breaths while he tried to regain some kind of calm -- ha fucking ha -- or distance, because he felt like he was unbalanced, like he was about to fall (on Dom, fucking _fall_ on him) in some way he might never be able to get back up from. "I'm…" he panted, "I'm… I'm…"

"Dominic," Billy said, voice sharp, like a slap, and Dom was curling around behind Elijah before Elijah had even managed to get his eyes open, pressing against his back, arms curling around Elijah's waist. Billy was on his knees right in front of them both, eyes searching Elijah's face, expression a curiously dissonant mixture of desire and concern. "You're all right," he said. "Elijah, it's all right."

"You… you…" Elijah stammered, and then paused, swallowing and trying to just fucking get ahold of himself. "How do you do this?" he managed finally. "How can you, how, because I feel like I'm… like I'm… I don't fucking _know_! He, Dom, I want… God…" He scrubbed at his face hard, trying to think, trying to get what he meant out of his fucking mouth, but he couldn't phrase it and wasn't even sure he wanted to say it out loud, and then have to deal with the consequences, have it out there, like that, unable to call it back. He looked at Billy and gestured helplessly, and Billy caught his hands, holding them pressed together between his.

"I know," Billy said. "Elijah, I know. It's all right."

Elijah shook his head, not precisely disbelieving, but not quite able to accept it either, even though he had seen, even though he suspected a lot that he _hadn't_ seen.

"Yes," Billy said firmly. "Elijah, I swear. This is why, this is why I waited, right here. The way you feel right now, about Dominic, the way you felt when you bent him back and felt him give…" Billy's voice dropped to a low, rolling almost-whisper. "You had him completely, and you wanted more. The way he sweats and shakes and strains when he's under you, the fucking sounds he makes, like he's breaking, the way he looks, like he's drugged, like _you're_ his drug, and you can feel his fucking neediness, and his body responds to you, to your hands, to _your_ need, and he can't stop you and he doesn't want to…"

Elijah could feel Dom breathing on the back of his neck, Dom's hands splayed across his chest and belly, unmoving but holding, supporting, and Billy was still holding his hands, and they were both so solid, so steady, that he could feel himself physically calming even as Billy's words twisted in his gut, twisted the want there, winding it tight until it was fucking agonizing.

"It's okay to want that, 'Lijah. I want Dominic like that every fucking day. Every. Fucking. Day."

Behind him, Dom murmured wordlessly and brushed his lips against Elijah's shoulder, then dipped his head to rub his cheek there, too. It was… sweet, it was such a telling thing to do, and Dom might as well have whispered in his ear that he wanted that, wanted Elijah to want him like that, just _wanted_ Elijah. He retrieved his right hand from Billy's grasp -- leaving the other still cradled between Billy's hands -- and slid it over Dom's, curling his fingers in between Dom's, feeling Dom's fingers curl down and around his fingertips in response. "Okay," he said. And it was, yeah, because if Billy felt like this, too, it couldn't be wrong. Billy wasn't capable of being a bad person. "Okay, crisis averted." He laughed a little shakily. "Carry on with the fucking."

He could feel Dom's lips curling against his shoulder, but Billy didn't smile. Billy shifted, visibly _shifted_ , like an optical illusion, like Billy who was familiar and comfortable and safe just blinked out of existence, eclipsed by a Billy who looked hungry, who's body was a tense and compact fusion of grace and strength, who's eyes were fierce and sharp. "Want you like that, too, 'Lijah," this Billy said, and Dom's fingers tightened around Elijah's. Billy let go of his hand and slid both hands across Elijah's chest instead. His thumbs traced the ridges of Elijah's collarbones for a moment. "Want you helpless." Elijah swallowed the bitter metal taste of apprehension, and Billy's eyes flickered down to his throat and stayed there for long moments, just looking. "Want you fucking aching." One of Billy's hands slid upward and curled softly around his neck. Elijah's head fell back against Dom's shoulder like the muscles of his neck couldn't support it while Billy was touching him, and Billy let out a soft breath and closed his eyes, like he couldn't stand to look at it, but his fingers flexed slightly, a tiny motion, and Elijah could feel the calluses at the tips of Billy's fingers, guitar calluses, and his breath left him in a rush, expelled from his lungs like someone had pushed it out.

It didn't make sense, that he was thrown into a panic because of all the rest, but this made him want to close his eyes and spread his knees and just… he didn't know, just let it come, let it happen, don't fight and don't think and don't worry, just relax and let go.

He didn't realize he _had_ actually closed his eyes until Billy spoke again, and his voice was closer. "For _years_ , 'Lijah," he murmured. His hand was still curled gently around Elijah's neck, and when Elijah opened his eyes Billy was so close he felt dazzled and breathless by his sheer vitality, the green of his eyes, the gleam and flicker of teeth visible for a moment in Billy's not-smile. "I have wanted you like that for _years_ , and I waited because I didn't know if I _could_ wait. And so I _had to_." He just looked at Elijah for long moments, brows drawn together with ferocious concentration, like he was waiting for the understanding to show on Elijah's face.

Elijah did understand it. He understood it perfectly, because he had just done the same thing, on a smaller scale. He had stopped because, for a handful of seconds -- his body bent over Dom's, the taste of Dom heavy and sharp in his mouth -- he'd been truly afraid that he couldn't stop. That he was out of control.

"Can you stop now?" Elijah asked, and his voice sounded strangled and erratic, like Billy's hand was bearing down on his neck, though it wasn't, not at all.

Billy took at deep breath, and Elijah could see, again, the barely-there quiver in Billy's limbs (and he could feel it in Billy's fingers on his neck, a faint tremor, unbearable somehow), minuscule signs of strain, of tension. But his voice was steady. "If you tell me to."

"Then don't," Elijah whispered (and Dom shuddered behind him, brief but strong). "Don't stop."

Billy smiled, slow and genuine and tender, and leaned in briefly, brushing his lips across Elijah's. Elijah's lips parted of their own accord, but Billy didn't take advantage of it. He slid his hands down to Elijah's shoulders and pushed him firmly to one side, moving away from Dom. "Watch," he said, meeting Elijah's gaze only for a moment. "Pay attention. After this, I'm not asking you again." Elijah nodded, but Billy didn't see him, was already turning toward Dom. "Get up on the bed," he added, as if it were an afterthought. "Better view."

Elijah scrambled up onto the mattress clumsily, unwilling to take his eyes off of them, and he wasn't sure if that was because of what Billy had said or just because he just couldn't stop watching them. The two of them together was one of the most glorious things he'd ever seen, and he couldn't help his fascination now any more than he'd been able to before he had been a part of it.

"You too, Dominic," Billy murmured, and brushed his fingers along Dom's back as he stood, fingertips grazing along his spine. "But don't touch him."

Then the bed was shifting under Dom's weight and they'd moved far enough apart that he had to pick one of them, he couldn't watch both. He watched Billy. Dom didn't touch him, though he did move so close to Elijah that he could feel the heat of Dom's thigh less than an inch away from his own, radiating warmth that was uniquely Dom's.

Billy went to the bedside table and opened the top drawer. Elijah hadn't actually ever looked in that drawer, but he had a fairly good idea what was in it from the past three days. Billy got into that drawer (or sometimes told Dom to do it) when he wanted cuffs or lube. He guessed there was other stuff in there, too. Curiosity prickled along his neck like edgy fingertips, and he shrugged his shoulders a little at the feel of it.

Billy took out a pair of the now almost-familiar (but still wicked) leather cuffs and tossed them to Dom, who caught them neatly. He followed that with another pair, identical, which Dom also caught, and then he was drawing out longish bits of leather that looked like belts, but were too short to actually be belts, besides having no buckles.

 _But too long to be collars,_ Elijah thought, and couldn't sort out if he were disappointed or not in the tumult of confused emotions that followed that thought. He had seen Dom's collar, once, had touched it, and even though he hadn't known what it was at the time, in retrospect, it was huge in his memory. And the events directly following it, which had at one time seemed like the worst and best night of Elijah's life, had now resumed something resembling normal perspective. Weird, how things could shift around in memory like that, morphing into something entirely different when looking back at them.

Dom shifted abruptly when Billy turned toward them, and it was a real struggle not to look away from Billy. Elijah could feel sudden apprehension coming off Dom, like almost-silent radio transmissions, barely audible. Billy ran the leather (straps?) through his hands, drawing them straight for a moment, then twisted them and tugged, like he was testing their strength. Beside Elijah, Dom's breathing was abruptly loud and uneven, and Elijah could feel himself reacting likewise, though he didn't know why. He was just reacting to Dom's reaction, without understanding or justification, and when a quick thought blazed across his mind ( _He's not going to hit us with those, is he? _), he barely had time to grasp at it, try and wrest some kind of meaning from it, before Billy was walking toward them, closing the three steps between him and the edge of the bed, his head tilted slightly, eyes flickering from Elijah to Dom, and back again.__

"Up against the headboard, Dommie," Billy said, soft and certain. "Elijah, put the cuffs on him."

 _Uh…_ Elijah thought uncertainly, but he took the cuffs when Dom pushed them into his hands in an awkward jumble of leather and clanking metal. He was distracted completely when he looked up from it and saw Dom, hands curled around the top of the headboard, looking over one shoulder at him, eerily reminiscent of that first night. _Uh…_ he thought again.

"That's very pretty, Dommie, but turn around," Billy said (he sounded a little amused), and smacked Dom on the ass with a sharp sound, _crack_ , and then Elijah could see Billy's handprint slowly reddening against the pale, smooth skin.

 _Uh…_ Elijah thought again, and watched Dom turn, all smooth, rippling planes, and Dom looked faintly disappointed, didn't he? If he was, though, it didn't stop him from stretching his arms out along the top of the headboard, stretching and shifting his shoulders, rolling his head back, first to the left and then the right, like he was getting ready for something. He curled his hands around the top of the headboard, and when he looked at Elijah, he smiled.

"Use both sets of cuffs," Billy said. "One for his wrist, the other around the headboard. Here." Elijah turned, and Billy was holding out a length of what seemed to be grey felt. Elijah frowned at it, and Billy gave him a slow smile. "Wind it around the top rail," he said. "So the chain doesn't scratch the wood." Elijah almost grinned -- what, it was fucking funny -- but then Billy added: "He always struggles, in the end." The grin never quite made it to his lips; instead, the simmering heat in his belly surged brighter, and he didn't know what expression was burning on his face, but it felt heavy and stark.

There was something soothing about the mechanics of immobilizing Dom. Billy helped him, slow and patient murmurs, instructions, his hands working around and in between and on top of Elijah's, his breath a soft warmth against Elijah's neck. Dom watched, his eyes half-lidded, and the time it took to truss him seemed to calm him, too. His breathing grew slow and deep and easy, and when Elijah lifted his arm to wind felt around the wood beneath it, it was heavy and lax, warm and loose. That, combined with several other factors (the smell of leather and wood polish, which was possibly inextricably linked in his brain with extreme arousal now, the feel of Billy brushing against him as they worked, the simple fact of the leather _there_ , around Dom's wrists, existing in enticing juxtaposition with the smooth glow of his skin) made Elijah feel shifty and uncertain and terribly terribly needful.

The two lengths of leather Billy had pulled from the drawer were lying by Dom's knee on the mattress, looking more or less harmless (like the shed skins of snakes, things that he knew weren't threatening in and of themselves, but had some kind of lethal association in Elijah's mind), and Elijah suspected fairly strongly that Billy hadn't brought them out to hit either of them with. He wouldn't need two for that, anyhow, but more presently than that, Elijah was fairly sure Billy wouldn't be willing to do that yet. He thought the progression of events up until this point had been fairly carefully thought out, deliberate, and he was relatively sure that even if he _had_ pushed Billy into an all-out demonstration a bit sooner than Billy had planned, that didn't mean that Billy wouldn't continue to pace things in a way that he thought Elijah could handle.

Maybe he should feel a little more irked by that understanding; he was an adult after all, and he could make his own fucking decision. But. He didn't. He trusted Billy, trusted Dom, and the hitting thing was… It was another thing he wasn't sure if he even wanted to see, and he was fairly sure his relief was very slightly stronger than his disappointment, in this instance.

So what was he going to do with them?

Elijah looked at Dom for long moments, considering, and it was really pretty easy to see, once he removed the possibility that they were an instrument of violence of some sort, removed the suspicion of fear and pain that hazed his thinking, if not the inexplicable stab of lust that accompanied it. They were for Dom's legs. Cuffing his ankles to the headboard wouldn't do any good, he'd still have a lot of room to wiggle and arch. It was a matter of location. The angle of Dom's body against the headboard couldn't be perfectly flush, not with him on his knees, so while cuffing his wrists stretched along the length of the headboard would effectively immobilize Dom's upper body, his lower body would still be pretty free to move around. And Billy, he was pretty sure, was a thorough sort of guy.

He glanced over at Billy and found him watching Elijah with a kind of elemental patience. "I can show you the best knots to use," Billy said simply, and Elijah found himself nodding, one hand already moving forward to scoop up one of the bits of leather. It was rough against his palm, not a smooth length of leather like a belt at all, but more like a cured bit of hide. He ran it through his hands for a few seconds, thinking about that. "Right above the knee is best," Billy said, and Elijah nodded and bent to it. "Don't let him flex his thighs like that," Billy murmured a few seconds later, distractingly close to Elijah's ear. "He's doing it so that the leather will be looser when he relaxes; it'll increase his range of movement."

Almost casually, Billy slid a hand between Dom's thighs and wrapped it around his nuts. Elijah saw his knuckles go white and taut for a moment, and Dom let out a ragged, warbling groan. Elijah blinked -- he remembered what that felt like, or what it felt like when _Dom_ did it to him, anyhow, and the fact was, the memory was by no means entirely unpleasant -- furiously for several seconds, and then Billy was stroking the same hand along Dom's thigh.

"Feel the difference?" Billy asked, and Elijah didn't resist when Billy pulled his hand up to explore the warm expanse of skin as well.

He managed a nod, although he wasn't actually sure that he did, but Billy's scent so close to him (not to mention Dom's mingled with it) and Billy's voice so close to his ear was powerfully distracting, and it was possible that he wouldn't have noticed any difference if Billy had placed his hand on his own thigh rather than on Dom's.

His hands fumbled at the leather for a moment, and then managed to wind it around Dom's thigh. "Not too tight," Billy instructed, and his hands were around and over Elijah's, demonstrating. "Circulation. And pull the knot to the side, so it doesn't cut into his skin. It's prettier that way anyway." Elijah obeyed and before he really knew it, it was done. Billy handed him the other length of leather, and Elijah just held it, looking at Dom's unbound thigh. He wasn't sure he remembered how to do it.

Billy was… he was just distracting that close, and then there was Dom, and he was fairly sure he could get the fucking leather around Dom's leg, but he didn't remember the mechanics of the particular knot Billy had used, and he wasn't quite willing to admit to that.

He sidled over a bit on his knees and bent to wind the leather around Dom's left thigh. Once that was done, though, the procedure escaped him, except that involved Billy's chest up against Elijah's back, Billy's hands moving with Elijah's, and Billy's breath gusting across Elijah's cheek. He hesitated, half bent at an awkward angle, sort of hoping Billy would see Elijah's uncertainty and move to help, but that didn't happen. Instead, he listened to Billy breathing -- steady -- and Dom breathing -- also fairly steady -- and himself breathing -- markedly unsteady -- until he finally opened his mouth and admitted, "I don't remember the knot."

He wasn't sure what he expected, but Billy didn't do anything except move up behind Elijah and show him again, hands slow and patient, breath hot and so fucking distracting.

"If you can't learn to concentrate," Billy said softly, "how do you expect to be able to do this for him when I'm not here?"

It provoked a rapid and curiously indecipherable leap and tumble in Elijah's midsection. He was shaking his head before he had realized he meant to, part negation and part something else. Fear maybe or at the very least uncertainty. Billy didn't bother to argue with him, which was just as well. He suspected it was the kind of denial that would fall apart rather quickly under close scrutiny.

He wanted to ask _what now?_ but he wasn't quite willing to be that pathetic.

It was quickly moot anyhow, as Billy took Elijah by the shoulders and pushed until he'd shuffled over to one side, and he'd barely got his balance back before Billy was kissing him, shoving him back against the headboard next to Dom. He could feel Dom's forearm against his shoulder blades, complete with the edge of the leather cuff digging into the back of his left arm, Dom's mostly helpless hand still mobile enough to curl fingers around Elijah's biceps while Billy's teeth dragged stinging scrapes in his tongue and lower lip. Elijah's arms went up and around Billy's neck of their own volition, and it was great, it was getting almost everything he'd wanted for the past hour or so, the feel of Billy pressed firmly against him, chest to chest, all lips and teeth and fingertips on Elijah's face and neck and hips and it was far easier not to think when he was _doing_ , or when Billy was doing and Elijah was having done to him, or whatever. It didn't matter, even Dom's fingertips on his shoulder, the sound of the leather around Dom's wrists creaking resistance as Dom pulled against it, straining for nothing but the ability to put his hand on Elijah's skin, he was aware of it but it didn't matter. It just added to the overall furor of clamoring need that felt like it was battering against the inside of his skin, trying to get out, trying to escape.

When Billy pulled away, Elijah literally flailed for a moment, his arms open, hands closing on empty air as he tried to capture Billy again. "Dammit!" he hissed, and he could feel his frustration and confusion like solid things, sticking to his skin, clogging up his brain so his thinking was muddled and slow. " _Dammit_ ," he said again, less of a hiss and more of a stammer, and rubbed at his eyes, at the sting that was gathering behind his eyes.

"Shh," Billy murmured, "no need for that, now," and his hands were on Elijah's arms, stroking along them again, soothing whether Elijah wanted to be soothed or not.

"Elijah…" Dom began, his voice a low, rumbling whisper, but stopped abruptly when Elijah looked at him. Dom's jaw clenched for a moment, muscles twitching and brows drawn together and downward, shadowing his eyes. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and Elijah watched his face relax, the tightness around his lips fade away, and when he opened his eyes again, he smiled slightly. "It's all right," he said softly, gently. "I love you. Billy loves you."

"I know that," Elijah said, and he did. He did. It wasn't that at all. "I don't know how to do this. I… I want, and I don't know how to…"

"Kiss him," Billy murmured, and shifted slightly, somehow managing to shift Elijah at the same time so that Elijah was facing Dom instead of pressed back against the headboard and Dom's arm. "You know how to do that."

"Kiss me," Dom agreed, a slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, and Billy's hands stroked warm, tingling paths down Elijah's back.

He _did_ know how to do that, and it wasn't like he didn't want to kiss Dom (God, did he ever, every minute, every day since so long ago that Elijah couldn't pinpoint when it had started), but after that, what next? "What then?" he asked, but he was already leaning toward Dom when the question escaped his lips, and he was kissing Dom before it occurred to him that no one had answered.

Kissing Dom like this was not quite like kissing him on the floor had been, but was not like kissing him when Dom was hovering above Elijah either, not like Dom kissed while his cock was pushing into Elijah's ass and his arms bunched and flexed under Elijah's fingertips while they moved together, sometimes with Billy behind Dom, sometimes with Billy just laying beside them, watching and touching. Kissing Dom like that was like a reflection, an echo, Dom tongue fucking Elijah's mouth while Dom's cock fucked Elijah's ass, and this was different, this was better, maybe, or maybe just different, maybe there was no such thing as better. Dom's lips were soft and pliant, open to Elijah's tongue, not pushing or nipping (though Dom almost always nipped), just open and warm and welcoming, and the result was something long and slow and sultry, something heated and full of anticipation, but soothing somehow, urgent but not demanding.

Elijah wasn't even aware of having his hands on Dom's face until Billy caught his wrists, prickle and burn of Billy's fingers closing around abraded flesh, and he broke away from Dom's lips with a shaky gasp. "Billy--" he said, objected almost, sort of, but Billy merely tugged his hands away from Dom's face and to the headboard, hands sliding up across the backs of Elijah's and curling them around the top of the headboard.

"Kiss him," Billy whispered, lips brushing lightly against the back of Elijah's ear. "I'll take care of what comes next." He kissed the side of Elijah's neck briefly, more a brush of lips than an actual kiss. "Let me have you. Let me."

 _Yeah,_ Elijah thought, shivering, but he just kissed Dom again, because that was the thing, at least for now, at least until he had a clearer idea of what to do, listening to Billy was the key.

"And don't move your hands," Billy added, provoking another shiver from Elijah and a soft growl from Dom, muffled against Elijah's mouth. Then Billy's lips were sliding down the back of Elijah's neck, tongue drawing a wet, hot line down his spine, and his hands were urging Elijah's thighs apart with gentle pressure which Elijah had no desire to resist. The side of Billy's thumb ghosted over Elijah's nuts from behind, and he heard himself gasp into Dom's mouth while his hands curled hard around the top of the headboard, the cool wood warming in the grip of his sweaty hands. He could feel the quivering tension in his shoulders, which only escalated when Billy slid an arm around his waist and tugged backward, changing the angle of his body so that it seemed like most of his weight was actually being supported by his abruptly flexing arms, enough so that he had to drag his mouth away from Dom's and lock his arms to support himself.

"I… I don't think I can…" he stammered, and Billy's teeth on the back of Elijah's thigh stopped his voice in his throat, bottled it there along with his breath, and he wasn't sure what to do, what to say. He wasn't sure he could hold himself up like this, especially if Billy was going to do things like _that_ while he tried, but it was too late now to pretend he didn't understand that that bite had been a reprimand, an admonition, a punishment, and far, far to late to pretend he didn't like it, that it hadn't made him want to arch back, push into it, push back against Billy. He looked at Dom (too far away to kiss with his body stretched like this, though he could do it if he could keep from falling without his elbows locked, which seemed unlikely), questioning, but Dom just looked back with his eyes wide and brilliant, and Elijah could see understanding there, but no help. Maybe Dom couldn't help.

Maybe there _was_ no help.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and forced his breathing to steady and deepen, forced himself to just relax a little -- though he couldn't, not much, not without falling face first down onto the bed, which didn't actually seem like a bad plan, except for the part where Billy had said to leave his hands on the headboard -- and concentrate on the feel of Billy's hands on his back, smoothing slowly down to his ass, and it was pointless to try to stop himself from pushing back into Billy's hands. "'Lijah," Billy murmured, and Elijah felt his breath, warm and damp, at the small of his back just before he felt Billy's lips there, so lightly that Elijah's skin prickled and tingled with shivery chills bumps, which was just weird with the way his palms were sweating. Billy's tongue slid hotly across his skin, and Elijah looked at Dom, and he could tell from the darkness of Dom's slow smile that he was enjoying Elijah's expression, but there wasn't anything he could do about that.

"Dom… Dom, what…?" he murmured, almost soundless, and he wasn't sure if he was violently opposed or fervently in favor of what this seemed to be leading up to, only that the thought made him grip at the head board hard enough for the wood to bite painfully into his palms, and he was pretty sure he was trembling or possibly quivering.

"Don't talk," Billy said, not harshly but undeniably, lips moving against the dip of Elijah's spine and still traveling lower.

Dom didn't; Dom just blinked at him, lips slightly parted but still smiling slightly, and then his eyes flickered away, above Elijah, behind him to Billy, and Elijah got a good look at Dom's face, at the want there, the vast craving; Elijah couldn't help but shudder, his lips curling around Dom's name, though silently, and wondered if Billy did, when he wasn't keeping his face so perfectly calm, if Elijah would look that way himself, if there were a handy mirror. He was so wrapped up in the idea of that (did they feed on each other, did it work like that, because he could feel the way Dom's blatant, ragged lust made his own ache deepen, want to need, desire to demand) that he was hardly aware of Billy's mouth until his tongue dipped low enough to be in what Elijah's mind screamed was forbidden territory, unthinkable, filthy, _wrong_ , and he let out a strangled little groan at the slick heat, Billy's tongue slipping down along the crack of his ass, and he didn't know whether to pull away or push back, and he was actually _grateful_ to feel Billy's hands on his hips, alleviating the need for him to do either, or maybe allowing him to do both.

The creak of the leather around Dom's wrists startled him; he could feel the echo of the sound in his palms as the wood shivered under them, but Dom's eyes were still on Billy, fixed intently behind Elijah. The sound was enough, had been enough since that first night, to make Elijah's belly twist and spasm, and his hips jerked slightly, as though drawn toward Dom in spite of the fact that in this position there was no way Elijah could reach him. Billy's fingers dug deeply into the thin skin over Elijah's hipbones, intense pressure that was nevertheless not quite pain -- or not anything that he had ever defined as pain -- holding him still, and he felt Billy's knee brush up against the inside of his knee, realized that Billy was prepared to hold him still and his knees wide open by brute force, and his balls tightened, drew up into a hard double knot of desperate arousal.

"You don't date the right kind of girls, Elwood," Dom growled, that same lust-heavy amusement, the sound of which still had the power to make Elijah shiver, and Dom was looking at him again, eyes gleaming with humor, lips curled into a smirk that was slightly smug, but still sexy as hell. "I can't believe no one has ever done this to you."

 _Shut up, you kinky fuck,_ Elijah thought, but was too mindful of Billy to actually say out loud, which was maybe for the best, as it rather sucked as comebacks went.

"Shut it, Dommie," Billy said, but he sounded amused, too, and then his tongue was _there_ , really actually on, touching, pressing sleekly against Elijah's asshole, and it was, it felt, God, he was going to fucking shiver right out of his skin. He choked for long seconds, no breath, no real thought, just a kind of white shock that fired every synapse in his body until he was tight and tense and trembling; it wasn't that he couldn't believe Billy was doing it. It was that he couldn't believe how it _felt_ ; nothing could feel so fucking good, it was like, it was just, it was beyond anything he had words for, and when he dragged breath back into his lungs, it was only to shove it back out again immediately in a kind of grating, hissing moan, and there was no denying the need to push back now, no denying the desire and no denying the execution. Billy's hands shifted, thumbs curling against the tender skin around Elijah's asshole to open him up, and then the abrupt invasion of wet heat, the pleasure only exacerbated by the illicitness of it, the dirty thrill, God, Billy's tongue in Elijah's ass, and the arch of his back deepened as he gave in, knees sliding further apart on the smooth cotton of the sheets, placing more strain on his trembling arms, but worth it, yes, as Billy's tongue speared more deeply into him.

His skin crawled with the feel of it, like every inch of it was sexually aware, and the tops of Dom's arms bunched and moved against the bottoms of Elijah's wrists, and even that, that one tiny contact with Dominic, seemed impossibly, insanely good. Elijah's head was full of the sound of Dom, not talking but making soft sounds of want, low, heavy breaths that were almost moans and the creak of the leather, and the sounds Elijah could hear coming from his own throat,, coerced out of him, rhythmic like the plunge of Billy's tongue, were remarkably similar. Elijah could die, he could _die_ from this, and the thought didn't even surprise him. Dom was clearly right, he _hadn't_ been dating the right kind of girls, not if girls would do _this_ (and none had ever offered to, had ever so much as hinted this might be a possibility, though in all honesty Elijah doubted he'd have had the nerve to accept such an offer, and maybe it had to be like this the first time, maybe the only way a person could get over that kind of ingrained inhibition was to never be offered the choice in the first place, and if that was the case, Elijah definitely felt like choice was way fucking overrated).

"You look fuckin' amazing," Dom whispered, and Elijah had the distinct urge to snarl at him, tell him to shut the fuck up, because if his lack of discipline made Billy stop what he was doing there would be some serious fucking hell to pay. Since he wasn't quite willing to display the same lack of discipline, he just looked at Dom, did his best to make what he was thinking show clearly on his face, and had the satisfaction of seeing Dom blink, and then bite his lip, and God, Dom's face was so wide open, so blatant, Elijah could definitely fucking see the appeal of having Dom like this, bound and helpless and wanting so much that Elijah could feel it on his skin, sex-tides, fucking sex-waves. Between Billy doing filthy things behind Elijah and Dom looking like a fucking rape-victim waiting to happen, Elijah's cock felt like a loaded fucking gun with an oversensitive trigger, just the slightest touch, God, and "pleasepleaseplease," he groaned without meaning to, just one touch, just…

"'Lijah," Billy murmured, and the abrupt loss of the heat of his tongue drew a shallow, mournful cry from Elijah's throat.

 _Oh, God,_ he thought, blinking rapidly with some kind of crazy, jagged emotion that he wasn't ready to look too closely at, _God, this is… God, what is this?_ But he didn't ask, too afraid to ask, too needy, and in front of him, Dom's gaze shifted upward away from Elijah's face, Billy again, like Dom couldn't decide which of them he needed to see. Watching Dom's eyes was like watching emotion distilled into color, a spectacular shift of cloudy grey to something close to charcoal, and Dom made a sound like an animal might make, low and grating and challenging. He jerked both arms forward hard -- the headboard creaked alarmingly, his biceps bunched and the slender, wiry muscles of his forearms writhed beneath his skin -- his hips stuttering forward with the motion as much as they could, but Billy's knots held, the cuffs held. It was a matter of two inches, maybe less (Elijah felt an unfamiliar and unexpected upsurge of satisfaction), and Dom's growl deepened to a sound of frustration, and he jerked his head back -- _wham_ \-- against the wall, eyes snapping closed, head rolling back and forth as if in negation.

He groaned, "Elijah," an unmistakable entreaty; Elijah's mouth went dry at the sound of it, his eyes dropping down to Dom's cock, hard and red and wet at the tip. "Elijah, Elijah," Dom repeated, eyes still closed, the back of his head rolling against the wall; Dom's hips were rocking forward with each syllable, God, and Elijah wanted nothing more than to drop down and brace his hands against the mattress so that he could tongue the slick shine of moisture at the head of Dom's cock and the faintly visible red band the leather was leaving around the meat of Dom's left thigh.

For the space of several intense and helpless seconds, Elijah was oblivious to Billy behind him, was mentally incapable of comprehending anything but Dom sweating and groaning and vulnerable in an agony of need, and Dom was beautiful, was fucking _magnificent_.

Then the blunt head of Billy's cock brushing heatedly against Elijah's asshole brought him back to himself in an agony of his own.

"Oh, please," he whispered. "Oh, finally, oh, please," and Dom went still and silent; Elijah could hear Billy breathing, but he was pretty sure both he and Dom were holding their breath.

"I'm not a gentle man," Billy said, a blatant lie and Elijah knew it, but Billy's voice was unsteady, his tone an almost-question, and things were very clear for an instant.

Billy _was_ and ever would be a gentle man, inconceivable to imagine him otherwise, and Elijah thought it must be hard for him, so fucking hard for Billy to _need_ this so much and be so afraid of going too far.

"Bullshit," Elijah snarled, "and that has nothing to fucking do with this." He shoved himself back hard, and Billy met him halfway, slick and hot and thick enough to wrench a grating cry from Elijah's throat and a thick, copious stream of precome from Elijah's cock that was so close to actually coming that he shuddered and clenched and screwed his eyes shut desperately at the raw, brutal fucking pleasure of it. Billy's fingers snapped tight around Elijah's hips, biting hard and dragging him back even further until Elijah's grip on the headboard felt straining and tenuous, and he could hear Dom chanting their names and the word fuck in various repetitive combinations.

Then Billy was pulling back, and the retreat of his cock sparked pain that Elijah had been oblivious of during the actual entry. The choked keen Elijah could hear was definitely coming from his own throat, and if there was any possible way to stretch his arms any further, he'd have resisted the withdrawl, he'd have followed Billy's cock, but it didn't occur to him to let go of the headboard until it was too late.

"Billy," he half-gasped, half-sobbed, "dammit, Billy."

"Shh," Billy murmured, and it took Elijah several seconds to recognize the fact that Billy was actually physically moving Elijah, was applying firm and patient pressure to the backs of Elijah's thighs, and Elijah was responding, was scooting his knees further toward the head of the bed in response without any kind of thought, with barely any recognition of the fact, and maybe he wouldn't have noticed at all except there was less strain on his arms and he could suddenly feel the baking heat of Dom's body close enough to make Elijah's skin prickle and tighten.

"What…?" Elijah asked, and Billy shushed him again. Dom was quite still, as though he was afraid of doing anything at all in case it might be the wrong thing, the thing that would make Billy change his mind and move Elijah away; even Dom's hips were still.

"There now," Billy said when he had Elijah positioned to his apparent satisfaction.

Elijah was more or less upright, and Dom's skin was more or less six or eight inches from his skin in several key locations, and Elijah thought he could lean forward and kiss Dom from this distance, or maybe even arch forward and drag his cock against Dom's belly. No sooner had he thought it than his hips were in mid-motion, and only Billy's hands curling around Elijah's hips again stopped him.

"You don't get to touch him," Billy said, his voice smooth and calm and only faintly reproving.

Dom swallowed loudly. Elijah choked back a whimper.

"You don't get to touch him until and unless _I_ tell you to, Elijah, and you don't get to shove yourself onto my cock and _take_ what you want." Billy's hand curled briefly around the back of Elijah's neck and then down his spine to cup his ass, a single fingertip barely brushing Elijah's asshole. "It's important that you understand that right now." Billy's lips brushed Elijah's shoulder, and Elijah shuddered, not terribly surprised that he was nodding. The fingers of Billy's other hand threaded through Elijah's hair, soft, and tugged gently back until Elijah's throat was arched and all he could see was the ceiling above him and one tall poster of the bed. " _Do_ you understand that, Elijah? Do you really?"

"Yes," Elijah hissed, and felt the heat of Billy behind him again, hand curling around one of Elijah's hips to pull him back against Billy's cock, nestling the length of it along the crack of Elijah's ass. "God, please."

Billy's fingers twisted into Elijah's hair and pulled (across the white expanse of the ceiling, almost like a movie, the memory of Billy jerking Dom to his knees by the hair, and Elijah's balls felt like they were going to fucking burst) hard, forcing his head back further. Elijah's eyes stung and watered and he gave a single barking cry. "Do you?" Billy demanded, low and deadly, and, God, so fucking hot, and for a moment Elijah couldn't force out any kind of response, just screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to be still, not to arch forward into Dom or back to grind against Billy's cock, or _anything_ to just get some fucking friction.

Billy waited, like he _knew_ , like he always seemed to know when Elijah didn't know a damned thing, and finally he managed, "I'll do anything you say."

Dom moaned, guttural and visceral, and Elijah kept his eyes closed; he just didn't think he could take it, he just couldn't.

"Everything," Billy whispered silkily, lips hot and wet against the curve of Elijah's ear, and rolled his hips, pushing his cock against Elijah's ass. " _Everything_ I say, 'Lijah."

"Elijah," Dom whispered hoarsely. "You're fucking killing me here."

"Everything you say, Billy," Elijah agreed; his voice was unsteady and breathy, but clear enough.

This time it was slow, just the head of Billy's cock pressing against Elijah's asshole for long seconds of heated pressure that had him shuddering and gasping but not moving, God, quivering but just as still as he could be, just waiting and letting Billy slowly, slowly breach him.

"Fuck him," Dom snarled thickly, and the headboard shuddered against Elijah's palms. "Just fucking do it, Billy, fuck him, give it to him already."

"Shut your mouth, Dominic," Billy said almost pleasantly, "or I'll leave you like that until tonight."

Elijah believed him totally, and Dom apparently did as well. He went quiet and still again.

"So fucking tight," Billy breathed into Elijah's ear, and he wanted to moan, wanted to shove back, fucking impale himself on Billy's cock again, wanted it, but he curled his hands harder around the headboard and just listened. "So fucking good, 'Lijah, so fucking sweet when you tremble," and at least Elijah could _hear_ the want, could hear it in the short, fast breaths Billy was taking, his lips just below Elijah's ear. It made it easier, somehow, that Elijah wasn't the only one, and never mind Billy's even, steady voice and his firm hands, never mind that look on his face that always said he knew exactly what he was doing. This was the truth of Billy, Elijah could feel it, he could fucking smell it and taste it; Billy _wanted_ just like Elijah did, just like Dom did. Billy needed them like this, wanted _them_ like this, and his control and his restraint and his subtle, proficient manipulation was a means to that end.

Billy had learned all of this at some point, had figured out how to be what he had to be to get what he needed, and if Billy could do that (and, fuck, Billy most certainly _could_ , obviously), than Elijah could do it, too. He could learn how he fit, learn the rules, figure out what to do just like learning a part in a movie, except better and realer than anything he'd ever done, even Frodo. Just knowing made the whole thing, the whole fucking situation kind of shudder (like Elijah was shuddering, Billy's cock slowly, steadily opening him up, different than the times Dom fucked him, lacking the impatient thrust of Dom's hips, Dom was always in a fucking hurry, always pushing in fast and hard, and God, this was different) and shift into something less confusing, or at least something he wasn't worried about figuring out right this second.

"Please," he whispered huskily; Dom groaned throatily and shifted, accompanied by creaking leather and the tink of metal links. Billy's hands around Elijah's hips shifted, thumbs sweeping warm, shivery fans along the small of Elijah's back and the top of his ass. "Billy," Elijah stammered, "Billy, please, please," and his back dipped into an arch he could feel stretching his muscles, offering his ass in blatant invitation, entreaty. It changed the angle -- Billy made a quiet, humming sound, a pleased noise -- and Elijah hissed, his eyes falling closed as Billy's cock pushed home in a single sleek, effortless stroke. "Oh," Elijah panted, beyond shame, "oh, oh yeah, oh God, yeah."

One of Billy's arms slid around Elijah's waist, tender and steadying, and tugged him back, snug and warm, and Elijah could feel Billy's hipbones pressed against the curves of his ass and Billy's breath against the back of his neck. "Beautiful," Billy murmured, and his tongue was warm and slick on the back of Elijah's neck, followed by softly nipping teeth. Billy's hips rocked gently, barely a movement, but enough to set up delirium inducing friction inside Elijah. He wriggled and shivered and Billy laughed, his arm tightening around Elijah's waist, but his voice was thick and intense and raw. "You're fucking beautiful."

"Beautiful," Dom echoed desperately. "Jesus, so fucking gorgeous."

Elijah didn't say anything; he couldn't even if he wanted to. Billy wasn't quite as thick and brutal as Dom, but he was longer and far more deliberate, and he was fucking driving Elijah insane with slow, long strokes that slid across his prostate with a kind of vicious, hurtful pleasure. Elijah thought maybe he never really understood what it meant for something to feel so good it fucking _hurt_. He felt simultaneously stretched tight and bunched and twisted, and like he could come at any second, and when he did it would crack him apart.

"He's going to come." Dom's voice, from what seemed like a huge distance, echoing and weirdly faint, and Elijah thought, _Yeah, God, please,_ and then warm, tight flesh around his balls and he jerked and choked, not pain but thwarted pleasure, and he could feel his mouth open and gasping and wanting to scream but lacking the focus to actually do it.

"No he isn't," Billy said, closer, right behind Elijah, still pressed tightly along the line of his back, all heat and smooth muscle, all force and power and Elijah could smell him. Billy smelled like burnt electrical wiring or a gasoline fire or something else, Elijah didn't know, something hot and wild. "Not until I'm done with him," Billy growled.

"Billy," Dom whispered huskily. "Please. I want to hear him come. Please. Make him scream."

"Did you think you'd be begging for _his_ pleasure, Dominic?" Billy asked, sounding merely curious, but he didn't wait for Dom to answer. He surged forward hard, the arm around Elijah's waist jerking Elijah back at the same time, a hand in Elijah's hair doing the same; he didn't scream, couldn't, still, but he sobbed and felt tears in his eyes, and he didn't fucking care.

"Ohfuckinghell, oh, yes," Dom whimpered, and Elijah's cock pulsed once hard, soclosesoclose, before Billy's hand was around his balls again and Elijah's head was drooping forward, the muscles of his neck useless, and when Billy's cock shoved into him this time, fucking splitting him, Elijah screamed.

"Ah, fuck, ah," Dom snarled, and Billy was making some kind of indefinable sound in Elijah's ear, something wonderful and terrifying, low and effortful and somehow approving.

"'Lijah," Billy breathed, either a question or just a statement, Elijah couldn't tell, didn't really care, just loved the sound of it, Billy saying his name, rolling it across his tongue and over his lips like it was something good to eat. "'Lijah," Billy repeated, and then bit Elijah's neck hard enough to make Elijah whine and struggle briefly, the feel of pulling against Billy's hard hands mingling with the sound of Dom, clinking chain and creaking leather and low, muttered curses.

"Please," Elijah moaned, "please, oh, oh, please," and the headboard whammed against the wall behind it, so loud, and Elijah looked up in time to see Billy's hand (it took him a second to realize it was the hand Billy'd had around Elijah's balls because he could almost feel it, still, the warm painful-but-not crush of Billy's competent fingers wrapped around oh-so-tender flesh) shoot past Elijah's shoulder and--

 _wham_ \--

Dom's head rocked to the side, and the curve of his neck was a perfect, vulnerable expanse of skin that Elijah wanted to bite, and Billy _hit_ him, really fucking _backhanded_ him, and when Dom turned back there was blood on his mouth.

"OhGodJesusfuck," Elijah shrilled, shock scalding his mind white, and his arms just gave out, rubbery and strengthless, and he fell forward into Dom's chest, solid and warm. "Dom, Dom, Dom," he groaned, he was going to, _had to_ come, and Dom turned his lips against Elijah's cheek and mouthed his name soundlessly, lower lip wet with hot blood, making Elijah shudder so hard he was sure he would come apart.

"I said don't fucking touch him," Billy snarled into his ear, and Elijah gasped out some sort of unintelligible objection as Billy's hips did something fast and nasty, something that made Elijah's cock jump and jerk, but somehow didn't push him into the orgasm that he'd been sure was inevitable. Billy's hands curled around Elijah's on the headboard and his arms braced the outsides of Elijah's. "Keep your fucking arms straight, 'Lijah, don't make me tell you again."

"I didn't… I didn't…" _,,,mean to,_ Elijah tried to say, but it wouldn't come, couldn't, because he couldn't breathe enough for the words, and Billy's teeth were grazing at the back of his neck anyhow. Elijah's head lolled forward (offering, Jesus) and Billy took advantage of it, his jaws clamping down hard. Elijah whimpered, heedless, for the moment, of how it must sound, and pushed back hard, pushed back onto Billy's cock and moaned at the rumble of Billy's growl against the back of his neck. "Oh fuck, oh, oh, fuck," Elijah groaned.

He could smell Dom, too, smell them both, and Dom's smoky, stinging sweat and need felt like physical things to Elijah (although Dom had stopped saying his name, stopped growling it with that throaty combination of demand and entreaty, and Elijah wasn't sure if he was grateful or disappointed at that), even without touching him. Billy's touch (touches, he was touching Elijah everywhere, he seemed to have too many hands or something) was enough to drive Elijah to distraction though, so Dom's bound hands (he could hear the creak and tug of Dom pulling against the leather) were probably for the best. That it wasn't only Dom's hands, that Billy (they) had been so fucking thorough when he'd gone about immobilizing Dom, only made Elijah want to touch him more, give him _something_ , because Dom's need was beating and biting at him like it had wings and teeth. He could feel it fluttering and ripping everywhere that Billy wasn't touching him, and it was driving him insane.

His arms trembled, partly from the pressure of Billy behind him, Billy pushing and arching until Elijah couldn't breathe or think, the rough push of Billy's cock inside him, volcanic friction laced with the prickle of deep pain, the pain of being thoroughly fucked (and Elijah shuddered, completely caught up in the thick and clenching heat in his balls and belly, an unbearable demand and an irresistible bliss). He wanted to come, needed, needed to, but he wanted it to go on forever just as much, and he was twisted as much between the two as thoroughly as he was twisting between Billy's body and Dom's.

He wasn't prepared when Billy's fingers clamped around the back of his neck and forced his head around, wasn't prepared for the impossible angle or for Billy's lips jammed against his, sharp teeth and slick, wet tongue, but he felt it when Billy went so still, so tense, felt it when Billy's lips went slack against Elijah's ("Oh my God," Dom groaned softly), and the juddering and uneven thrusts, rough enough to burn and unspeakably good, the pulse of Billy's cock inside him, everything suddenly hot and slippery, frictionless motion, and he didn't know when Billy had wrapped his hand firmly around the base of Elijah's cock, nothing but firm pressure, not a caress, but it made it impossible, kept Elijah from releasing the demanding heat and need twisted around his cock and balls and belly. Billy didn't make a sound, so still and so quiet, but Elijah could hear Dom, no longer muttering or cursing, but merely breathing now, deep, hitching breaths like Dom couldn't quite get enough air; Elijah was pretty sure the choked-off whimpers were coming from his own throat.

"Please, I want, please, Billy, pleaseohgodplease," Elijah groaned, and Billy _mmmm_ ed against Elijah's lips, the pressure of his fingertips easing against Elijah's jaw; Billy's body unknotted and relaxed, and when he eased back onto his heels, Elijah's slippery hands lost their purchase on the headboard and he sank back with Billy, straddling his lap, Billy's spent cock still warm and good inside Elijah. Billy didn't yell at him this time. He merely stroked a soothing hand across Elijah's belly, short, soft strokes that were nevertheless carefully clear of Elijah's cock, and rested his forehead on Elijah's shoulderblade. Elijah could feel that Billy's brow was damp and hot, and his breath was still rapid and slightly labored gusting across Elijah's spine and cooling the sweaty skin of his back.

He resisted the urge to squirm on Billy's lap; no matter how much he wanted _more_ , he hadn't forgot the way Billy's voice sounded, telling Elijah he wasn't allowed to just take what he wanted. He shivered again with the memory, and Billy's hand on his belly stroked up to his chest and tweaked at a nipple, just sharp enough to shiver into the shady, uncertain territory between pleasure and pain. Billy was, Elijah reflected, awfully good at mapping that particular area.

"Never seen him come so fast," Dom said, and Elijah dragged his attention away from the feel of Billy's hands on his skin. Dom's voice was slow and oddly slurred, like he was very drunk or tired; he sounded faintly awed, Elijah thought, and he shivered again. It was -- _Dom_ was--

"What's wrong with--," Elijah heard himself begin (the second time tonight), but he stopped speaking when he heard how his own voice sounded.

Remarkably like Dom's, actually. Slow and a little garbled, like he was exhausted and on the verge of passing out, though Elijah didn't feel like that at all. Drugged, almost, and Elijah remembered thinking that the first time, that first night, and, yeah, Dom looked like that again. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his face smooth and oddly calm, his gaze almost unseeing, unfocused, as he stared at Billy and Elijah. He'd tipped his head back against the wall, and his arms rested, docile, along the top slat of the headboard. The marks around his thighs from the leather were less livid now that he wasn't straining against them. His lip was still bloody; Elijah watched Dom's tongue slide out and lick at the blood, leaving his lip shiny. It was a little swollen.

He was nothing like the snarling, cursing, terribly tense and desperate creature he'd been only a few minutes earlier.

"Nothing's wrong," Billy murmured, leveling his lips at Elijah's ear again. "Everything's right." He stretched his arm past Elijah's shoulder again (Elijah was irrationally certain that Billy was going to hit Dom again, in spite of the fact that Billy's hand was moving far too slowly, almost lazily, and was frankly appalled and ashamed that his response to that certainty was knotted, twisty desire low in his belly) and stroked his fingertips along Dom's cheek. Dom turned his face into Billy's hand and closed his eyes, and Billy cupped the angle of his jaw, thumb stroking gently at Dom's cheek with his thumb. Dom lashes fluttered lightly against his cheeks. He wasn't smiling, but he looked… God, he looked _happy_ , he looked utterly content. Elijah had never seen him so still. "Everything is just right," Billy said, and Billy sounded just like Dom looked: utterly content. Dom's eyelids drifted open, and he smiled. "Perfect," Billy said again, and Dom _blushed_ , faint but present.

Elijah's cock throbbed, and for some reason he could feel his own cheeks heating as well, as though sympathetically. Billy's lips brushed against the skin below Elijah's ear and his stubble prickled at Elijah's neck. Billy's hand fell away from Dom's face, and for a moment he was hugging Elijah, both arms wrapped warmly around his chest. Then he shifted, half-lifting Elijah, and slid out. Elijah made a soft, pathetic sound of objection, but didn't resist Billy maneuvering them both so that Elijah ended up facing him.

Billy looked serious, almost solemn, but some of the fierce energy seemed to have retreated from his face and body. He looked at Elijah for a minute, then dropped his gaze down to Elijah's dick. Elijah watched, half-fascinated, half-appalled, as Billy reached out and quite deliberately slid his finger through the slick droplets clinging to the head of Elijah's cock, and then smeared it around the reddened, ultra-sensitive flesh of the glans. Elijah shuddered, helpless, and his cock jerked like it was trying to fucking escape, which didn't seem to bother Billy much. The head of his dick was so sensitive that the sensation was nearly pins-and-needles like, and Elijah could keep back a strangled groan.

But he didn't pull away, and Billy looked up and smiled. He slid his hand alongside Elijah's jaw, just as he had with Dom, and Elijah turned into it in the exact same fashion, and it felt… it didn't feel strange at all. It was, as Billy had said, just right, down to the warm fan of sensation Billy's thumb was brushing along Elijah's cheek.

"Perfect," Billy murmured, and tipped Elijah's face up to kiss him gently, almost chastely. "Thank you, 'Lijah."

Elijah wasn't sure if he meant to say 'you're welcome' or anything at all, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, "Thank you, Billy," and Billy's eyes gleamed with fierce and unconcealed pleasure for a moment. Elijah felt like he'd won a prize or something.

"You're welcome," Billy said, a little wry, but obviously sincere. Inexplicably, Elijah was blushing again. "Later, you'll understand what a lovely thing you've just given me. To show my appreciation--" Billy smiled with too many teeth, and Elijah was equal parts alarmed and excited, "-- I'm going to give you something equally lovely."

Elijah wasn't sure what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. It was just as well, as Billy had turned his attention to Dom again.

"All right, Dom?" Billy asked, observing Dom closely.

"Yes," Dom answered at once, returning Billy's steady gaze with one just as composed.

Elijah watched, just as fascinated by them as he ever had been, by the way they interacted, the ease between them, the understanding that didn't seem to require much of a verbal component. He'd always admired it, sometimes envied it, and at the moment, wanted nothing more than to be a part of it.

"No set plans for the day," Billy said, which didn't seem to have much to do with anything at all, but Dom nodded as though he understood. "I'm making some," Billy said.

Dom smiled.

"Okay," he said. His voice was a little unsteady, but he still looked calm.

Elijah was sure something important had just happened, but he wasn't clear on what.

Billy leaned across the bed, one hand braced on the mattress, and opened the nightstand drawer. He pulled out a short piece of black leather -- it gleamed faintly, and Elijah thought he saw bits of metal -- and then used the backs of his knuckles to nudge the drawer shut. He straightened, and pulled the leather taut between his hands. There _were_ bits of metal, like dull little spikes, along the inside.

Dom, Elijah saw, had closed his eyes.

"Dom?" Billy said, his voice steely and sharp. Dom opened his eyes, but almost immediately his gaze dropped to the thing in Billy's hands. His brow furrowed, crinkled into lines of distress, but he didn't say anything. The dread in Dom's eyes did something visceral to Elijah, something impossible to categorize; his belly was tight with fear, but his balls felt heavy and full with impatience and exhilaration. "Do you want to come first?" Billy asked very softly, and Dom started, his eyes jerking up to Billy's face, wide and surprised.

An instant later the surprise passed, replaced with deep distrust and obvious indecision. Dom looked at Elijah for a moment, but Elijah had no idea how to respond, so he just looked back, fists balled on the tops of his thighs to keep himself from grabbing his own cock and squeezing hard. Dom looked at Billy again; he looked almost pained. Fear and need warred on his face, and Elijah was vaguely impressed. He was sure _he_ would've said yes at once, to hell with the consequences.

Then again, Dom clearly knew better what to expect from Billy in this situation than Elijah did. Even with his relative ignorance, Elijah was pretty sure Dom had good reason to look like that. Billy's offer almost certainly had strings attached. Elijah could see it in the expectant little smile on Billy's face, and he was sure Dom must be able to see it as well.

"Dom," Billy prompted, clipped and immediate, and though Dom still didn't look at all like he'd made up his mind, he nodded slowly. Billy smiled. "As you like." He moved closer to Dom on the bed and began unfastening the cuff around his left wrist. "Get the other side, Elijah," he ordered without looking at Elijah at all, as if it were perfectly obvious that Elijah would.

Elijah did, of course, actually wincing as he shuffled over to Dom's right side. His balls ached with the movement. He wasn't sure if it was just frustrated need, or if Billy'd managed to bruise them earlier. It hardly seemed to matter.

It took Elijah longer to unfasten the right cuff, and Billy had already untied the leather around Dom's left thigh and gone to work on the right. Elijah merely backed up out of his way and watched Dom rub doubtfully at his wrists for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on Billy. Then he folded his hands behind his back, settling down onto his heels as though he was quite used to the position.

Billy tossed the leather over the side of the bed carelessly and just looked at Dom, who cut his eyes to one side and refused to look back. "Well?" he said after nearly a minute passed during which Dom didn't move at all.

"Bill…" Dom mumbled faintly, and Elijah was both fascinated and horrified at how he sounded, uncertain and all choked, like he might be fighting off tears.

"Dom," Billy responded silkily, and Dom's eyes closed tightly for a second.

"I changed my mind," he whispered hoarsely. "I… I don't want to come."

"Liar," Billy laughed, and lifted one hand to curl his fingers at Elijah. Elijah swallowed hard, and shuffled over to Billy. He could see from the corner of his eye that Dom was looking at him now. Billy held up the leather close to Elijah's face. "Have you ever seen a cockring before, 'Lijah?" he asked conversationally.

Elijah had to swallow again before he could manage an answer. "Not… not for real."

Billy smirked. "Seen one on the internet, have you?"

Elijah nodded, and felt his cheeks heating up again.

"This one," Billy said, turning it to display the metal spike-y things, "is a bit of a biter. These go on the inside, like--" he caught Elijah's wrist and wrapped the leather tightly around it so that the metal bit dully into Elijah's abraded skin, and Elijah winced and bit back a hiss of discomfort, "--so. You see?" Elijah nodded again. His mouth was far too dry to answer now. "I'm going to put this on Dominic whether he comes first or not," Billy told him seriously. His eyes were bright with something, amusement, maybe, enjoyment, definitely. He was scary as hell. "Can you think of any reason in the world why Dominic would _not_ want to come before I do that?"

"I--" Elijah began, and Dom made a brief, choked off sound. The desire to turn his head and see what Dom looked at was so engulfing that Elijah bit sharply at the inside of his cheek to distract himself. "I don't know," he managed, finally.

Billy arched an eyebrow. "You don't know if you can think of a reason?"

"No, I mean, I--" He swallowed hard, and didn't look at Dom, absolutely sure he was somehow being set up to set _Dom_ up for something unpleasant, but genuinely unable to figure out how not to do it. Not even entirely sure he didn't want to. Several seconds went by, but it was useless. Elijah honestly couldn't think of a single reason, not if Billy was going to put that thing on Dom one way or the other. It seemed to him that Dom should jump on the chance to come while he could, since it didn't seem likely to happen once the device ( _cockring_ , Elijah forced himself to at least think it) was on him. Billy, apparently growing impatient, wrapped his hand around the leather still around Elijah's wrist and squeezed. "Fuck!" Elijah gasped, startled out of his thoughts by the jolt of raw nerves. Billy just looked at him. "No," he murmured finally, and resisted the urge to shoot an apologetic look at Dom. "I can't think of a reason."

Billy smirked, and then looked at Dom. Elijah followed his gaze, but Dom had his face tipped down. His mouth was a soft, miserable line, and Elijah felt the first wavering doubt creep into his belly. He didn't like the way Dom wouldn't look at them.

"Dominic," Billy rapped out, sharp and impatient. Then, enunciating quite distinctly, he added, "You're pissing me off."

Dom's eyes flickered upward for second -- he looked, Elijah thought, almost desperately contrite -- and then away almost as quickly. "Sorry," he whispered almost soundlessly. "Please, I'm sorry."

"Not sorry enough, clearly," Billy observed; his tone had dropped into neutrality. He stared at Dom for a few seconds, and then snapped, "As you like, Dommie. Come here Elijah."

"Huh?" Elijah started, suddenly feeling a little panicky.

"Come. Here." Billy tugged the cockring out from around Elijah's wrist -- Elijah winced, but managed not to otherwise react -- and pointed at the bed directly between Billy and Dom. Since there really wasn't anything else to do, Elijah scooted over. Billy held out the cockring. "Put this on."

Elijah took it doubtfully and glanced over at Dom. Dom was looking back this time, eyes wide and uncertain. "Billy--" Dom began.

"Shut up, Dommie," Billy growled, and Dom subsided, but shifted uneasily.

Elijah, his palms abruptly sweaty, fingers feeling thick and uncoordinated, turned toward Dom, pondering how to do it. He had a the brief idea that Dom might come with Elijah fiddling with his cock -- it wasn't like Elijah knew what he was doing -- and he wasn't entirely certain that he didn't like the idea. He reached out to grab Dom's cock and lift it, but Billy caught his wrist.

"Not on him, Elijah," Billy said, an undertone of laughter in his voice. "On _you_."

"Wha…! Why?" The objection-slash-question was out before Elijah thought about it, but as soon as it stumbled past his lips, he found himself bracing, as if expecting a blow, simultaneously thinking, _he'll hit me, he's going to hit me,_ and _he wouldn't, he won't, not yet._

"Because I told you to," was what Billy actually said, his tone reasonable and expectant, and Elijah felt himself nodding, so relieved at not being smacked that it seemed the only thing to do, and he was already fumbling with the cockring, fingertips exploring the buckle.

 _What the fuck?_ he thought, his belly flipping with nerves. There was some kind of crazy uncertainty lurking in his brain, a very quiet but very insistent voice that was demanding to know if he was _sure_ he wanted to do this, was Elijah _quite_ certain that he wanted to be involved in something that made him unthinkingly agree to doing something like this out of sheer relief that Billy hadn't hit him for questioning him out loud. Surely, this voice pointed out, that wasn't exactly _normal_ , and Elijah's hands were shaking so badly that he dropped the cockring on the mattress.

Billy picked it up and held it out to Elijah without comment; Elijah accepted it, and noticed for the first time that he was breathing so quickly and harshly that it bore some resemblance to hyperventilation. He swallowed against the giant lump lodged in his dry throat, and then took a deep breath, forcing it out evenly, doing it several times, until his breathing was better and his hands were at least a _little_ steadier.

"Good," Billy said approvingly, triggering another hot rush of blood to Elijah's face, more embarrassed at how his belly flipped and his chest clenched with pleasure at Billy's approval than the fact that he'd been practically hyperventilating to begin with.

"Bill," Dom whispered, and his voice cracked mid-syllable.

"Shut it, Dominic," Billy said equably, and didn't even look up.

Elijah did his best to ignore them both.

The leather of the cockring was stiff -- Elijah guessed that had to do with the metal -- and had warmed in his hands. He bent it back and forth a couple of times, biting his lip and thinking seriously about what would happen if he refused. Billy might hit Elijah, then, or Billy might just nod and look at Elijah, and take that as Elijah stopping things, which he recalled agreeing that he could do at any time.

 _What's really bothering me,_ he thought, deliberately closing his eyes so he couldn't see Dom's rigid, straining cock at the edge of his vision, _is that I'd rather have Billy hit me than just slink off to the living room and wait for the two of them to finish._

And that was absolutely true. If he was sure that was what would happen, Elijah might refuse, like Dom had refused to come (a fact that still boggled Elijah's mind). But he wasn't sure. It was still too new, and Billy could very well interpret such a refusal as Elijah wanting to stop.

Which he didn't.

He was more than a little nervous, even a little afraid, and a bit freaked out about what this entire situation meant in terms of the person he perceived himself to be, but he didn't want to stop.

 _Dom wears it,_ Elijah thought, and opened his eyes to glance briefly toward Dom. He was watching Elijah, and looked a lot like he'd looked the first night Elijah had slept with them. His expression was a riot of conflicting emotions, impossible to really comprehend. His cock was so red it was almost purple. Elijah could see the shine of moisture at the slit. Dom wore it, and he might not want to do whatever it was Billy wanted him to do, but it was clear to Elijah that Dom didn't want to stop either. Dom's dick was a pretty clear indicator of that, and Elijah's was pretty much exactly the same. That little roll of uncertainty and fear in Elijah's belly hadn't affected his dick one bit. Whatever it was that Billy was trying to get from Dom hadn't affected _his_ hard on -- or actually…

 _Well that's the thing, isn't it?_ he thought, bemused, staring fixedly at Dom's groin, cockring dangling loose from one hand, momentarily forgotten. _That's what it's all about. Doing things you wouldn't normally do, having things done to you… it's like. Like._

He couldn't' think of what it was like, but that was okay, he decided. Not having the words for it didn't make his understanding (limited though it may be) any less clear.

He looked down at his own dick, pondering the actual mechanics of doing as Billy said, and it was pretty simple. Couldn't really do it wrong, it was just a piece of leather with a buckle. His hands were still less than completely steady, but it wasn't like it was brain surgery.

Elijah reached down and carefully lifted his own nuts in his palm -- they were tight little knots of flesh, firmer and more ready than Elijah could ever recall them being in his life -- and pulling them forward slightly to get the leather into position. Then it wasn't much different than buckling a belt, tightening it just enough to be snug, and it wasn't so bad, the blunt metal spikes weren't exactly comfortable, but they didn't cause actual _pain_ either.

He was about to feed the end of the leather through the other side of the metal bracket of the buckle when Billy's hand unexpectedly entered his field of vision. Elijah froze, watching Billy curl his hand and slide one finger between the leather and Elijah's dick -- it was funny how his belly could be roiling with anxiety and his dick throbbing and tingling at that incremental contact at the same time. The cockring suddenly seemed twice as tight, and the metal studs, previously a minor discomfort, seemed to drill viciously into the thin skin of Elijah's dick.

"One more," Billy said, and somehow Elijah wasn't even faintly surprised.

 _He's a pusher, it's what he does,_ Elijah's brain babbled uselessly while Elijah's hands obediently tugged the slim length of leather that was already partially through the buckle until the metal tongue slid free of the hole it was in and into the next. Billy removed his finger, and the evenly spaced spots of pressure around the base of Elijah's dick subsided somewhat. Somehow, Elijah managed to finish securing it before he squeezed his eyes closed and wrapped his hands around his upper arms.

He felt impossibly exposed and faintly bruised, not his dick, but someplace deeper, an uncharted area midway between his lower belly and his chest.

His dick and balls ached dully. He guessed the metal would prove to be like Chinese water torture: barely an annoyance at first, but eventually enough to make you lose your fucking mind.

"I would've liked to have been asked if I wanted to come first," he managed, and wasn't sure if he was joking or sulking, but his voice was unsettlingly similar to Dom's, shaky and a little strangled.

"This is neither a democracy nor a perfect communist state," Billy said, businesslike, but he slid his arms around Elijah's waist and tugged until Elijah was leaning back against the solid warmth of his chest. "I've no intention of letting you vote, or of treating the two of you precisely alike."

Under other circumstances Elijah would have bristled, but Billy was comfortable, _comforting_ , his hands stroking soothingly abstract patterns along Elijah's ribs and flanks, and it was easier to just relax back and leave it in Billy's capable hands.

"How do you feel?" Billy asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Okay. It's a little uncomfortable, but I can live with it."

"That's not actually what I meant, 'Lijah," Billy murmured, not quite laughing. "How does it make _you_ feel."

"Oh," Elijah said, and his voice was really appallingly small. "Um. E-exposed. And." Dom was watching the two of them fixedly; he was making Elijah nervous, and as a result his voice got even smaller. "Like I'm being punished for something."

And he was blushing again. He wondered if he'd quit doing that at some point, and then he remembered _Dom_ blushing, and he guessed it was unlikely at best.

"I'm not," Billy murmured directly into Elijah's ear, "punishing you."

Elijah wasn't precisely sure what he thought or felt about that, so he said nothing, chewing at his lower lip and trying hard to block out the nagging weight around his genitals, disregard how strange it felt. It wasn't just the metal bits, which indented his skin with just enough pressure that he couldn't quite ignore it; the leather itself felt odd and restrictive, drew his balls forward so that the air felt cool and uncomfortable against the back of his scrotum. He couldn't quite make himself look down, and that just made it worse, made it feel like parts of him suddenly didn't exactly _belong_ to him.

He was pretty sure it should have been unequivocally terrible, but it wasn't, of course. That was the thing. It was lots of other things, too, like unbelievably kinky and arousing, and Elijah wasn't sure if his anxiety was something like habit. Like maybe he felt like he _should_ be disturbed, and it only made it worse that he really wasn't.

"Cross your arms over your chest, 'Lijah," Billy said softly, and when Elijah didn't move to do it quickly enough to suit him, he cupped Elijah's elbows in his palms and guided them upward. Elijah's arms moved obediently ( _I'm sure this whole thing has a perfectly rational psychological explanation,_ Elijah thought), and Billy murmured, "That's it. One hand on each shoulder."

" _Bill_ ," Dom said sharply as Elijah adjusted the position of his arms in accordance to the guidance of Billy's hands, and they both looked at Dom (Elijah felt the mattress under his knees shift as Billy leaned slightly to the left to peer around him). Dom looked genuinely anxious, and Elijah thought he also looked a little guilty.

"Yes?" Billy asked pointedly, and Dom's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"You… you can't… he isn't r-ready for that," Dom stuttered, then swallowed visibly again. "Don't," he added very, very quietly, and Elijah swallowed as well, hearing the click in his throat; he desperately wanted to know what Dom meant, but there was no way he was going to ask.

"Don't what, Dominic?" Billy demanded, and wrapped one arm around Elijah's chest, across Elijah's folded arms. Elijah flexed his arms instinctively, pushing against the abrupt, vertigo-inducing feeling of being pinned, and Billy's arm tightened gradually until it became clear to Elijah that he wasn't going anywhere without really putting forth some fucking effort, and that made it fairly easy to relax back against Billy's chest. He was distantly aware of Billy's free hand on his thigh, but Billy was kissing a fleeting, silky soft pattern along Elijah's left shoulder and neck, far more immediate and full of urgent sensation.

Dom didn't answer, and Billy's hand slid from Elijah's thigh until it was loosely circling his dick. Elijah stiffened a little -- Billy wasn't actually doing anything, his hand barely there at all, but Elijah's dick was suddenly throbbing and prickling at the contact, which made him even more aware of the alien feel of the leather and metal -- but didn't actually object, thinking, _This isn't so bad, doesn't really hurt, it's more weird feeling than anything else, I can handle it…_

And then Billy's hand tightened, tugged Elijah's dick slightly downward and stroked, all one smooth motion, friction, heat, sensation so intense that Elijah couldn't quite process it. Everything tightened, it seemed, tightened and bit into his flesh, and Elijah jerked, helpless to stop it, hips pushing out to follow the motion of Billy's hand to lessen the sudden pressure and jabbing discomfort that wasn't entirely mitigated by the pleasure. For a few seconds he wanted to cry out, yell, but his throat was locked up and the sound he made was more of a low, choked wheeze. Billy's arm tightened around Elijah's chest and arms, holding him, and just continued stroking Elijah's dick, slow and steady, agonizing pleasure, like fucking catching a perfect wave and the urgent, confused upside down feeling of losing it and slamming into the deceptively hard ocean all mixed up together, and Elijah's brain had gone off somewhere, leaving him with nothing but inescapable sensation and the absolute inability to stop himself from reacting to it, jerking either with or against Billy's hand, he couldn't even tell which, taking great, heaving breaths and shuddering out sounds that slid up and down the scale between moans of pleasure and cries of pain.

And Billy was talking the whole time, low and soothing tone, but Elijah only caught bits of it, "…so lovely…" and "…good…" and Dom was growling something, too, but Elijah didn't have the attention to grasp what it was, and frankly couldn't manage to care until Dom screamed something, jarring Elijah, and it was like the tilt-a-whirl at Disney Land, not an abrupt stop but a slowing, spinning turbulence that left him feeling weirdly heavy and disoriented when Billy stopped stroking him.

"Then do it," Billy growled, "if you're so fucking tender-hearted, Dominic," and the feel of Billy's chest vibrating against Elijah's back brought him somewhat back into his body, enough to feel that he was shuddering and to feel that Billy's hand was still wrapped firmly around Elijah's dick, and that he was breathing like an asthma suffer, big, effortful whoops of air that didn't feel like they were doing him a whole hell of a lot of good, and inexplicably, his hips were stuttering forward slightly, pushing his dick through Billy's fist just a tiny bit, and it hurt but he couldn't stop doing it. It was like being a junkie, he thought, like shooting up, because it was worth it, it hurt but it was worth it, it was good and terrible and _worth it_.

"B-Billy," he managed to hitch out, aware that he was about to unabashedly beg and not even giving a shit, but Billy didn't give him the chance.

"Hush, 'Lijah," Billy murmured, "I know."

"Please," Elijah breathed, and dared to push forward with his hips a little harder, hissing out a moan at the same time.

"I know, love," Billy repeated gently. "Not yet. Watch Dom." Elijah didn't even bother to try and repress his whimper of dismay when Billy let go of his dick, and slid his hand down to Elijah's balls to cup them lightly. "Fucking gorgeous," Billy breathed, and shifted so that his dick was pressed up against the crack of Elijah's ass. Elijah pressed back desperately, and Billy let go of his balls and wrapped his arm around Elijah's waist. "Shh, now. Watch Dom, 'Lijah. Worth it, I promise."

"You… you're a fucking bastard, Bill," Dom muttered, and Elijah saw that Dom's hands were resting on the tops of his thighs, now, clenched into white-knuckled fists.

"And you're deluding yourself if you think I'm going to put up with any more of your shite, Dominic," Billy replied calmly, his voice wintery. "You can't quite get past the idea of Elijah here, can you? Can't quite let yourself go for _me_ with him here." Dom's eyes widened and he licked his lips, but if he intended to respond somehow, Elijah never found out. "I'm disappointed, but I'm not surprised, Dominic," Billy murmured, and now he sounded almost amused as his hands dipped down to splay across Elijah's belly, bracketing his navel. Dom's eyes were glued to Billy's hands, Elijah noted even as he felt the skin of his abdomen ripple with shivers, heard his breath hitching. "I knew when I met you that you were bloody difficult. Didn't know you were going to be so tender of him, though, considering." Billy said it almost fondly, still faintly amused; his hands slid southward down Elijah's belly, and Elijah shuddered as Billy's thumbs tugged over the thatch of hair around his dick, pulling slightly but not really painfully. The fingertips of each hand, minus thumbs, were pressing into the tops of Elijah's thighs, and Elijah looked down in spite of himself. It felt almost like an assault, the white indentations around Billy's pressing fingertips, the black of the leather surrounding the blood red shaft of Elijah's dick, an assault on his vision burning the image of Billy's strong, small hands pressed against Elijah's skin. "You're mistaken if you think this changes anything between you and I, though, Dommie."

Billy's thumbs pushed toward one another, the sides barely brushing the leather around Elijah's dick, no _real_ pressure, but just the sight of it was enough to make Elijah's gargle out a tiny whimper of a sound, make his hips snap forward against the warmth of Billy's hands.

"Hush," Billy murmured absently, lips ghosting across Elijah's earlobe, and Elijah swallowed another sound (or series of sounds) without hesitation. "Everything I've ever done to you, _every single thing_ that makes you cringe, I'm going to show him, Dominic, even if it means I have to break you down every time." Elijah was sure he could hear the smile in Billy's voice, could picture the cruel curl of it on his lips, and when he looked at Dom, it was obvious there, as well. Dom looked half-horrified, but there was deep _yearning_ in his eyes, as well. Elijah felt the echo of that yearning in the pit of his own belly, wondered if it showed in his eyes like that, wondered what it looked like if it did. "And it's only going to be worse for you, because you _know_ better. When I rip you apart for him, when I teach him how to do it himself, it'll just be worse. There's no reason for it; you _want_ it and you know it, even Elijah knows it, and it doesn't have to be like that unless you make it."

"Dom," Elijah groaned, completely willing to encourage Dom to do whatever it was Billy wanted, anything, so that Billy wouldn't leave Elijah like this. The sides of Billy's thumbs were stroking over the leather, the flutter of sensation almost unbearably good, and Elijah felt sure he was going to lose control of his hips again at any moment.

Dom swallowed hard; he looked like he wanted to say something, his gaze flickering briefly to Elijah, but he didn't. Billy laughed quietly, and breathed, "I hope you don't think he's going to be as tender of you, Dommie," sounding silkily pleased. "He's not. Oh no, he's really not." His thumbs abruptly pressed hard against the leather on both sides of Elijah's dick, and Elijah let out a strangled cry, bucking against the splintering sensation, or maybe into it, he didn't know. Billy stopped just as abruptly, and Elijah snarled disappointment and relief and frustration, trembling.

"Dom," Elijah bit out, a growl, but Dom just swallowed again and looked down.

Elijah wanted to consider, at least briefly, what Billy meant about him not being as tender of Dom, but he couldn't seem to manage a linear thought process, couldn't keep his mind from jumping from that to the ache of his balls, and from there to the wounded look in Dom's too-wide eyes, the one that was somehow both agonized and rapturous (and wholly absorbing, Elijah wanted to know how to _do_ that), and then Billy slid his hands upward, palming Elijah's hipbones warmly. Elijah twitched, nerve-endings firing off rapid burst of pleasure messages to the appropriate centers in his brain, leaving the rest of it pretty much inoperative. The heels of Billy's hands rested comfortably on the angles of Elijah's hipbones, his fingers splayed wide across the skin to either side of his navel, his pinky fingertips brushing the tops of Elijah's thighs.

"Oh," Elijah said, and his hips shuddered, forward an instant, and then back to press his ass against Billy's dick. "Please, God."

"There now," Billy said, and his hands slid slowly lower again, until his thumbs flanked the patch of hair around Elijah's dick. "There now," Billy repeated, and deliberately slid the sides of his thumbs down the leather, not really _pressing_ , but increasing _pressure_ , an unbearable _tease_.

Elijah's balls spasmed, and for a second he thought (maybe hoped) he'd come, but no, it was as though there was a giant bolt lodged in the pit of his belly, and Billy was turning it, deliberately cranking it past where it should be able to go, overtightening it, and Elijah felt like a casing ready to crack. He croaked out something -- "ggrrngh," it sounded like to him -- and it was pure chance that made him look up then, see Dom staring, catch the look of guilt-ridden fascination, and it wasn't hard at all to understand.

It was easy to watch, easy to want to see, and even though Dom felt as though he was responsible for what Billy was doing (Elijah was sure that he wasn't responsible, though, because Billy did what Billy did, it was like blaming a cop for getting a speeding ticket, it didn't hold water), and to some extent he felt guilty about it, but it was awfully fucking hard to deliberately change places with someone when you were afraid (covetous, but afraid) of what was happening to them.

It was clear -- for an instant like he was reading Dom's mind, or maybe both of their minds, or maybe even all three of them, the gestalt mind that they made together -- that a part of Dom would be okay with watching Billy _play_ with Elijah for the rest of the fucking day. He'd feel bad, guilty, but he'd do it, because whatever it was Billy wanted from him, it was a big fucking deal _to Dom_. Billy was using Elijah to manipulate Dom into it, partially because Billy got off on that, but Elijah thought it also might be because Billy genuinely wanted to see Dom do it, thought it was worth all this effort, thought Elijah would think so, too.

Perhaps Billy hadn't recognized the extent to which adding Elijah to the situation would unsettle Dom, perhaps neither of them had, but from where he was -- between them, in every conceivable way, and that thought was enough to send an inexplicably powerful jolt of warmth to his groin, which didn't need it, and surging into his chest, which maybe did -- Elijah could both feel the tension in Billy's body behind him and see the desperate indecision on Dom's face in front of him, and he could feel how easily this could turn from a demonstration _for_ Elijah into an object lesson for _Dom_ , and he didn't think any of them really wanted that.

He also understood that, in spite of his current situation -- perhaps because of it -- Elijah wasn't actually as powerless as to the outcome as it looked. He wasn't an observer in this, he was a full on participant, and he could have some effect on the course of events, if he could figure out what to do.

But then it didn't really take any figuring out. He knew what to do like he knew how to display whatever emotion a director asked him for (and what was Billy if not the director, and what was he doing right now, if not manipulating them both, directing them both, and Elijah couldn't help wonder if Billy knew, had known from the beginning that Elijah would figure that out, or if Elijah was assigning him far too much credit).

Billy, either by chance or orchestration, Elijah honestly didn't know which, shifted his hands, one wrapping around the leather around Elijah's dick and the other stroking slowly down the shaft of Elijah's dick; before he'd even really begun, Elijah was twisting, crying out, making no attempt whatsoever at holding back, and it wasn't acting. It was _real_ , another furious wash of sensation that he couldn't avoid, but he wasn't trying now, wasn't struggling to be still or to bite back the pleas he could feel clawing his way up his throat.

"God, please!" he screamed, and Billy growled quietly in his ear, a low and dangerous purr of a sound that only intensified Elijah's need. "Dom, please, just, oh, God pleaseplease," and Dom surged up from his heels to his knees, face screwed into an expression of fierce anxiety, one hand reaching out to wrap around Billy's around Elijah's dick, still it, the other curling gingerly around his own dick.

"Okay," Dom gasped, and now _he_ sounded a bit like he was hyperventilating. Billy's hand was still wrapped around Elijah's dick, but not moving now, just present. Elijah all but collapsed back against Billy's chest, shaking so hard he thought he might pass out. "Okay, okay," Dom repeated, his pleading gaze angled over Elijah's shoulder, the hand around his dick loose and uncertain.

"Look at him, Dommie," Billy whispered hoarsely, and arched his hips forward so that his dick was jammed tight against Elijah's ass, and Elijah was bowed forward by the motion, though Billy's hand around his dick kept him from doing anything about the awkwardness of the position. Dom licked his lips and lowered his eyes obediently, raking Elijah from head to heels with his eyes.

Elijah, his eyes drawn to Dom's dick, as usual, watched the hand around it firm, the tendons in Dom's wrist flex and shift; Elijah's breath stuttered at the first slow, deliberate stroke brought a dribble of precome to the slit, and Dom sank abruptly to his heels, as though his thighs would no longer support him.

"Lay back if you like," Billy invited, and Elijah was pretty sure it was intended exactly as it had been worded, an invitation, but not even really a suggestion. Dom, however, was obeying as though it were a command, his long body rippling as he went back on one elbow and unfolded his legs from beneath him. His hand never left his dick, and his eyes never left Elijah. "Grioban," Billy murmured, a bare wisp of sound, and Elijah watched Dom's eyes flutter, his back arch off the bed slightly as though Billy had stroked him.

"There you are," Billy almost groaned, and let go of the leather around Elijah's dick to grasp Elijah's hip and jerk him back, grinding hard against his ass. Now _Billy_ sounded almost drugged, his voice thick and husky. "Do you see, 'Lijah, do you _see_?"

"I see," Elijah said faintly, and he did. Dom's eyes, it was like they had _cracked_ , like what Elijah had thought was _deep_ desire was actually _depthless_ , like his eyes were chasms of endless, dark need, beguiling and terrifying, infinitely beautiful, frighteningly compelling. All three of them, he thought, would look like that under the right circumstances, Billy probably looked like that right _now_ , looking at Dom, but Elijah couldn't bring himself to turn away from Dom to see.

There was nothing jagged about Dom now, nothing sneering, no resistance; Elijah felt transfixed by him, and Billy murmured, "He won't last, he never does once he's here. I could stop him, but…"

He didn't finish, but Elijah didn't need him to. He understood what was unspoken. Billy _could_ stop Dom, Elijah had no doubt of it, but watching Dom like this must be at least as rewarding for Billy as coming would be for Dom. Elijah could hear it pulsing in Billy's voice, love and lust and devotion all wrapped up together. A twinge of envy fluttered in his belly, but it was barely noticeable compared with the swell of love and the grinding need, and it was easy to dismiss, easy to let himself be distracted by Dom writhing on his back in front of Elijah.

Dom's hand was moving steadily around his own cock, and his hips had picked up the rhythm, bucking up slightly into his strokes. His eyes were half-closed, glittering up at them both from beneath his lashes, and his face was flushed and hot, his hair an impossibly sexy snarl.

"Use both hands," Billy whispered, and Dom's free hand moved at once to his balls, first cupping and then tugging, and his thighs splayed wide, his lips open and wet, his eyes like eddying grey and blue pools, both shades far darker than Elijah had ever seen them. "Going to let him have you when you're done, Dommie," Billy crooned, his breath hot on Elijah's neck. His dick was sliding along Elijah's ass, no rhythm, but like he was unable to stop the hard, stuttering demand for sensation. "Let him roll you over onto your belly and take you like that, all soft and open, watch him find out how fucking good that is, watch you both…"

Elijah watched Billy's words roll over Dom, who took them like a caress ("Uhh," Dom groaned, choked, and his eyes twisted closed for an instant as he bowed upward, his body a hard, tight arc); Elijah was sure he'd never seen anyone so open, so _raw_ , and Billy's hand, softly curled around Elijah's dick, was driving him crazy, a prickle of sensation that he _knew_ would be at least half pain if Billy were to firm his grip, but that he wanted anyway, desperately, almost mindlessly. He arched into Billy's hand and wasn't surprised when Billy dragged him back with the hand on his hip; at Elijah's choked off groan of want and disappointment, though, Billy's other handed tightened. Elijah let out a cry, something that wanted to be both a moan and a yelp. Dom bucked upward, once, hard, his face twisting, contorting with faux pain.

"Yes, come on," Billy snarled, Elijah wasn't sure which of them he was even talking to, and didn't care. He heard himself whispering a repetitive affirmative, encouraging Dom with words that were barely articulate, his own body wound tight and burning as if in sympathy, the leather a band of agonizing, ecstatic fire around his genitals, and now he couldn't think, couldn't even begin to sort out what was going on in his head, but he was gasping out,

"Love you, love you, love you, please," and Dom screamed something wordless but heavy with meaning, and his hand was so tight around his dick that Elijah couldn't see how Dom could possibly come, but he did, shuddering like he was dying, thick, white spurts of jizz across his belly and the back of his hand. Billy's hands tightened around Elijah's hip and dick, and he snarled Dom's name into Elijah's ear, but Elijah only barely heard him, crying out helplessly at the pressure and the pleasure and the pain, his balls seeming to twist and pulse hard enough to make his vision darken for a moment, but uselessly, hopelessly, leaving Elijah trembling and almost sobbing on the verge of coming fiercely.

Billy crooned something soothing into Elijah's ear, but the words were a jumble, if there were any, and Elijah sagged back against him, quivering at least as powerfully as Dom, quaking with aftershocks on the bed, his eyes still open and soft and fixed on them.

 _Please, I need, I need,_ he wanted to beg, but words deserted him; what escaped when he opened his mouth fully qualified as a whimper. Elijah didn't even feel embarrassed by it with Dom's eyes gleaming up at him.

Elijah nearly collapsed backward when Billy moved away, but Billy paused to steady him, his eyes searching and intent. Whatever he was looking for in Elijah's face, he seemed to be satisfied. He stroked both hands from Elijah's shoulders to his wrists once, and murmured, "Steady, love." Elijah's skin burned at the endearment, and his belly clenched, but he didn't even nod. He just looked at Billy; Billy smiled at him, and leaned in to deliver a quick kiss and a stinging bite to Elijah's useless mouth.

Then Billy was beside Dom, hand on Dom's face, tipping it up, and Elijah watched them kiss, entranced by it as always. Dom's neck was arched, tendons sharp and defined, but the rest of his body was utterly pliant, a soft sprawl that practically radiated satiation. Billy's jaw moved sharply, and Dom moaned softly into his mouth, and Elijah could feel his pulse in his dick and balls, pounding against the leather.

Billy only kissed Dom for a moment before drawing back; Elijah lost track of what Billy was doing for a moment as he gazed at Dom's utterly unguarded face, the soft glaze of love and unselfconscious need as he looked at Billy, and Elijah felt something similar swelling in his own chest, toward both of them.

Billy swiped his fingers through the mess on Dom's belly and then bent his head over Dom's mostly flaccid dick; Elijah shuddered as Billy's pink tongue snaked out to curl around the head of Dom's dick. Dom hissed out a soft breath, but his body stayed relaxed and biddable, even when Billy's come-covered fingers slipped down behind Dom's balls to smear slick fluid around Dom's asshole.

It was absolutely filthy and wonderful, watching Billy's fingers (two, both at once, and Elijah winced and moaned at the same time) push into Dom. Dom huffed out a breath, a harsh but essentially voiceless exclamation, something that clearly wasn't an objection, and Billy growled in response, which seemed perfectly natural to Elijah, nothing more than an extension of their normal wordless communication.

"Elijah," Billy said, and Elijah managed to drag his eyes upward enough to meet Billy's glittery green gaze over the top of Dom's dick.

From the corner of his eye, Elijah could see Billy's forearm moving and flexing, the ripple of tendon and muscle under skin; Dom's soft, breathy sounds hung in the air like wisps of smoke. "Take that off," Billy directed, his voice thrumming with reined-in force.

Elijah looked down at the leather around his shaft, and for a moment he almost didn't want to. He didn't know why. When he glanced up at Billy, Billy smiled at him and said easily, "Dom likes it, too. It's his favorite. I'll have to buy another."

Elijah's cheeks flared warm at Billy's knowing look and he reached down and fumbled at the buckle, but it was nothing compared to the warm expectation the tone of Billy's voice provoked. Everything seemed very real all the sudden, the edges solid and sharp rather than hazed over with disbelieving pleasure, and Elijah realized that this was going to be his now, all the time and not just in his dreams.

He smiled, and his hands steadied somewhat as he worked the leather out of the buckle (which was tighter now, and more difficult to manage), and he really wanted to see the cockring on Dom, he really really did.

His balls throbbed deeply when he finally got it loose, and for a dismayed moment Elijah thought the lack of pressure was going to be enough to send him over the edge. He shuddered, breath stuttering, and the only thing he could think to do was reach down and grab his nuts and twist hard. He choked, it fucking hurt, but it worked, and the feeling ebbed.

He glanced up at Billy self-consciously, certain he'd find Billy watching him, and he was right. But the uncertainty faded at the immediacy of Billy's hot gaze, the approving gleam in his eyes. "You were meant for this," Billy said, and held out his hand for the cockring, either unaware of the way his words made Elijah's belly jump, or not caring. "Made for it," he murmured, his eyes sliding down to Elijah's dick for a moment.

Elijah put the cockring in Billy's expectant hand, and Billy's eyes returned to Elijah's face. Then he shifted, directing his attention toward Dom's semi-hard dick. Billy grinned a little, a sharp expression, and dipped down and took Dom into his mouth all at once. Dom started and gasped softly, but then relaxed back, eyes still closed, his lips curled into a contented smile. Elijah was close enough that he could see the hectic flush on Dom's face and neck and the fluttering of Billy's eyelashes against his cheeks as he sucked Dom's dick with steady, methodical intent, his hand still moving between Dom's thighs.

Elijah couldn't see what he was doing with his hand, so he nudged Dom's right thigh open further without thought. Dom didn't resist in the slightest; actually, he slid both thighs apart, raising his knees, and Billy shifted upward slightly to let him without breaking rhythm. Elijah could see two of Billy's fingers pushing rhythmically into Dom's ass, the same methodical pace as Billy's mouth on Dom's cock. Billy's thumb was pressed behind Dom's balls, which were drawing up again with renewed arousal.

Elijah's breath felt thick in his throat as he watched Billy's slick fingers, fascinated by the way Dom was barely moving. Elijah was sure he'd have been growling and bucking and writhing around, but while Dom was breathing quickly and letting out soft gasps, he was still warm and relaxed, shivering but undemanding.

Billy pulled back from Dom's dick and slid the leather around his balls and shaft, securing it one-handed with ease. "When he goes down," he murmured without looking at Elijah, "he goes down hard." He slid the leather through the buckle and drew it tight; Dom hissed out a breath ending in a soft, aimless little moan as Billy slid his hand up to pump Dom's dick a few times, but he still didn't move, didn't resist. "He doesn't… slip into it the way you do." Billy twisted his fingers inside Dom -- Elijah saw both the flex of Billy's forearm and the way Billy's fingers shifted Dom's asshole open, and felt an almost dizzying surge of heat -- and Dom shuddered and groaned hoarsely, his hands twisted into the sheet. Billy let go of his dick and slid a hand across Dom's belly with firm, soothing strokes. Billy's voice was fiercely tender. "But once he's here, he's…"

"Amazing," Elijah supplied in a whisper, and Billy looked at him, unsmiling, his face nearly as raw as Dom's. He just looked at Elijah for a few seconds, and then turned back to Dom, slowly easing his fingers out of Dom's ass. Dom made a low, broken sound, and Elijah saw the satisfaction flicker across Billy's face; the combination sent a rush of heat to Elijah's belly, and before he even knew he was going to speak, he was saying, "Let me fuck him, Billy. I want to fuck him." His voice sounded low and desperate to his own ears, and he didn't realize he'd reached out and wrapped one hand tightly around Billy's wrist until Billy glanced down at Elijah's hand, smiling dangerously.

"You feel as though you have to ask?" Billy asked, sounding darkly amused, and Elijah recoiled slightly, abruptly uncertain, nervous and prickling with uneasiness.

"Yes," Elijah answered honestly, ignoring how rough he sounded.

Billy smiled slowly, eyes flat and measuring. "Good," he said, and then grasped Dom at wrist and shoulder and flipped him neatly onto his belly. Dom rolled bonelessly; one of his knees was bent, and Elijah could see the back of his ball sack and the leather tucked beneath it. Dom shifted, uttering a soft sound of discomfort, and Billy stroked a hand across Dom's ass without ever looking away from Elijah. "That's very good, Elijah. Very smart."

Elijah shivered, but forced himself not to look away. Billy, looking thoughtful, unfolded from his knees and was suddenly standing. Elijah had to tip his head back to keep his eyes on Billy's face -- it occurred to him that Billy standing up on the bed should have been funny, but it wasn't, not even remotely -- and Billy looked back with predatory satisfaction.

"Suck on my balls," he said, voice calm and even, like he was asking Elijah to go get the mail, and Elijah's gaze slid down the hard slope of Billy's body like his skin was frictionless, and settled on Billy's dick, thick and full again, deeply red. Billy's foreskin was back, and the head of his dick was slick and swollen. Elijah's mouth, dry just a second ago, flooded with moisture, and he was getting almost used to that.

It didn't occur to him to refuse. He braced one hand on Billy's thigh, and wasn't even surprised when Billy's hand slid around his wrist tightly, pinning it. He dipped his head forward, and Billy's other hand settled around the back of his neck, guiding him firmly forward. Elijah buzzed with the feel of being trapped, physically manipulated, a heady combination of nerves and gratification, and let himself be guided until his nose brushed the base of Billy's cock and his chin bumped against Billy's thigh.

Billy smelled so good, rich musk and sweat and come, filthy and hot, and Elijah was tilting to get a better angle without thinking about it, tongue darting out to explore the texture of Billy's scrotum. Billy's hand went tighter on his neck, pulled forward harder, and Elijah's back and neck went loose in response, bending willingly under the pressure, and he closed his eyes and inhaled Billy's scent and opened his mouth to taste him. Billy was unnervingly quiet, but Elijah couldn't keep himself from moaning as spit flooded his mouth again at the salty-sour taste of Billy's nuts, and he curled his other hand around Billy's hip to pull himself closer, shifting his knees wider for better balance, ready to settle in, ready to do this for the rest of the fucking night if Billy wanted, and never mind his heavy nuts and painfully hard dick.

But Billy was already pushing him back, using a hand in Elijah's hair and Elijah's still-trapped wrist. He folded down to his knees in front of Elijah, who blinked dazedly at him, unable to figure out what just happened. Then Billy was kissing him, and Elijah was vaguely aware of Billy pressing him back -- moving and moving Elijah -- but he wasn't even curious as to where or why as the heat of Billy's slick tongue dipped into his mouth and he found himself struggling to keep up with the ferocity of Billy's lips and teeth.

He cried out into Billy's mouth when a hand curled around his dick, stiffening for a shuddering moment, and then relaxing into it, moaning hopefully, though Billy didn't stroke him, just held his dick in a firm grasp. "Say please," Billy growled into his mouth, edgy and sounding almost angry, so that Elijah shuddered and tensed slightly, but it didn't occur to him not to do it.

"Please," Elijah moaned, and Billy laughed against Elijah's lips, a slippery-but-hard sound.

"Again."

"Please, Billy, pleaseplease," Elijah stuttered, not even entirely sure what he was pleading for, except that he wanted to come, he needed to come, he hurt, he ached.

"Yes," Billy breathed, sounding exultant, his lips slick and hot against Elijah's ear for a moment, and then things went stuttery in Elijah's vision as he was firmly turned and pressed downward, Billy's hand still curled firmly around his dick.

It took him several seconds to identify the warm, angular object beneath him as Dom, and then he groaned with bright, helpless lust, his hips surging blindly forward until the head of his dick bumped up against Dom's smooth arse.

"Steady," Billy murmured, and Elijah could feel him, warm and buzzing along his back, not at all steadying, wildly unsettling actually -- Elijah felt like a puppet on strings. "Let me," Billy rebuked mildly as Elijah shifted, tried to press forward, and Elijah shuddered once, feeling helpless and trapped and enthralled and on the verge of sobbing or collapsing, overwhelmed.

"Tell me what to do, tell me what to do," he gasped out, strangled and dismayingly needy, but Billy brushed his lips soothingly along Elijah's temple, and Elijah was aware of Billy's hand on his hip suddenly, exerting careful pressure. The head of Elijah's dick bumped up against Dom's ass, and he moaned, nearly pitching forward, but Billy's fingertips bit into his hip, bringing him back to himself.

"Stay up," Billy snapped, and Elijah did, his elbows pressing into the mattress on either side of Dom's shoulders, and he had to wonder how long they'd been there, and Billy was urging him forward again, one of his thighs pressed up against Elijah's ass, and Dom was so hot under him, so hot and soft and pliant, just waiting for Elijah to push in, just waiting to take it, and Elijah felt like a pot ready to boil over, chaotic and full of heady force.

Billy's thigh tensed against his ass, a warning Elijah had no time to do anything about, and then Billy's hand was gone from around his dick and he shoved, and Elijah moaned as his dick slammed into Dom all at once, soft and heated friction. Dom whimpered beneath him, almost soundless, and Billy growled behind him, words that Elijah didn't hear and couldn't care about.

Dom was soft, Dom was so soft and warm and tight, and he shoved one knee behind Dom's thigh to push it up and slid one hand beneath Dom's chest to curl up and around his shoulder, hold him still, to give Elijah something to brace against, drew back and surged forward again furiously with Dom beneath him, so soft, so fucking soft and taking it so hard and whimpering out little moans that tore at Elijah's skin like stinging nettles.

Elijah's eyes were half-open, he could see things in shutter-frames; Billy's hands, white-knuckled around Dom's wrists; Dom's face in profile, brow smooth and lips wet and open with his soft cries; his own hand curled fiercely around Dom's shoulder, fingertips pressing white indentations into Dom's golden skin; and Billy's face, intent and fierce, eyes gleaming with terrible desire and intensity.

He felt like he still had the leather around his dick and balls, like his orgasm was there, so close, God, but he couldn't force it, couldn't let go, and he snarled frustration against Dom's neck and bit down hard until Dom cried out and stiffened under him, muscles locked and trembling with pain, until Billy's hand curled into his hair and jerked his head back, making Elijah hiss with fury and need. "God," he half-screamed, "God, God, God," and he only noticed when Billy's hand slid under Dom because he had his head tipped down, forehead braced against Dom's shoulder as he rammed his dick into Dom with everything he could muster, took him, took Dom, all soft and sweet and willing and beautiful. Dom whimpered and tightened around Elijah's dick, shuddering, and Billy must be, Billy must have his...

Dom cried out and shuddered and made a sound like a helpless, pleading wail, and Elijah thought of the feel of Billy's hand around his own dick with the leather firmly in place, and he moaned, low and helpless, his balls twisted with undeniable need, and he was coming so hard his belly clenched and rippled, moaning and pushing, pushing, pushing into Dom's soft heat, hearing Dom's cries, Billy's growls, his own jagged desperate pleasure-sounds, his blood pounding in his temples, Dom's body softly straining beneath him, and it was like nothing else, it was like everything, he couldn't see or breathe, he didn't care, and it went on and on.

His arms gave out finally, and he lay heavy and helpless across Dom's back, drifting, feeling as though he wasn't really there in some essential way.

"Jesus," Elijah sighed; finding his face jammed up against the sharp angle of Dom's shoulder blade uncomfortably, he shifted to one side so his cheek was snug against Dom's sweaty back. He couldn't quite open his eyes. He felt both exhausted and utterly _infused_ with energy. "Jesus Fucking Christ on a pogo stick," he muttered.

Billy laughed and sent his fingertips skating along Elijah's spine, neck to ass, making Elijah shiver. Beneath Elijah, Dom was silent and warm, skin slick with sweat, his body a supple, restful curve. Elijah realized he was stroking Dom's side with one hand much as Billy was stroking Elijah's back, lightly undemanding.

After a few moments of serious struggle, Elijah wrenched his eyes open, casting around blearily for Billy. He wasn't surprised to find Billy regarding him intently, his eyes like banked coals, only smoldering at the moment, but ripe with the potential for heat and fire. Some time went by, maybe as much as a minute; it was easy to lose track of it while sucked into the complication of Billy's gaze, and Dom was quiet, maybe asleep and maybe just drifting. "Thank you," Elijah said finally.

Billy didn't laugh or sneer, either of which had seemed like a possibility to Elijah. Instead he just looked at Elijah for a while longer with his time-trap eyes.

"I want to fuck you again," Billy eventually said, and Elijah's dick, soft, but still cradled in the heat of Dom's body, twitched. Dom sighed but didn't move. "I want to fuck _him_ ," Billy continued, cutting his eyes toward Dom for an instant before locking gazes with Elijah again deliberately. "But I before that, I want you to know something."

Elijah's heartbeat, close to resuming its normal speed after the ascent into pounding ferocity a few minutes before, did something funny in his chest, a kind of clenching flutter, weird enough to genuinely alarm him for a second. He blinked, and Billy took that as an invitation to continue.

"You were _never_ my gift to Dominic. _Never._ "

There was no question of believing him. It was clear on Billy's face for a long, fierce moment, as though he'd chosen to strip himself down for Elijah; as soon as the thought came to him, though, Elijah knew it wasn't quite right. Billy hadn't chosen to do it.

Elijah had chosen to _believe_ what was there all along.

He nodded, considered trying to explain, and then decided it wasn't important, really.

A smile flashed across Billy's lips, crooked and charming, at odds with his bedroom persona, but not jarring, weirdly enough, and held out his hand. Elijah took it, and Billy turned his hand over and kissed his palm gently. Elijah twisted his hand to wrap it around Billy's wrist and draw him toward them. Billy let himself be drawn down, and this time it was a haphazard pile, and Elijah could feel himself grinning, basking in it, in them, and fucking beaming.

"Mmmm," Dom murmured from the bottom of the pile, wriggling softly. Elijah looked down and Dom was smiling, eyes closed, face relaxed and contented.

Elijah's dick twitched again at the sight, and when he looked up he saw Billy watching him knowingly.

"We have all day," Billy said softly, and dipped down to brush a kiss along Dom's sweaty brow. Dom's eyes fluttered, but didn't open, and he murmured softly, sweetly incoherent, which made Elijah smile. Then Billy was kissing him, not heated and chaotic, but the soft pleasure of warm lips and a gentle, nipping teeth. "All day," he repeated against Elijah's happily cooperative mouth, and Elijah let himself be levered gently off Dom and pressed between Billy and the mattress, relaxed and delighted that Billy was right.


	10. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the tenth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

"So... do you guys have like, safewords or something?"

Billy exchanged a look with Dom. Elijah was poking thoughtfully at a vividly purple bruise just above Dom's hipbone, blunt little fingertips alternately stroking softly over the discolored skin there, and then pressing down firmly. Doing that made Dom squirm, and Elijah seemed interested in that reaction.

"We haven't ever discussed it," Billy said, watching Elijah prod at Dom's bruise. "Do you want a safeword?"

Elijah merely looked thoughtful. He ran the pad of this thumb along the bruise one more time, and then shifted his attention toward Dom's seeping cock.

~

"So the two of you have been doing the kinky sex thing for years, and you've never even talked about safewords?" Elijah asked around a mouthful of wholegrain waffles.

Dom glanced at Billy, who was slathering butter onto his own serving of waffles.

"It's never been an issue," Dom said, and smiled when Elijah looked at him. He hadn't realized the conversation hadn't been concluded earlier. He wasn't sure what Elijah was getting at exactly, but he was willing to be patient on this one. They had agreed that it would be good to sort of ease into this situation.

~

"What do you say if you want him to stop?" Elijah was asking Dom.

They were out on the deck, Elijah smoking, Dom for company. Billy was drying dishes and eavesdropping.

"Why would I want him to stop?" Dom asked, and Elijah snorted and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't be difficult. You know what I mean."

For a while neither of them said anything. Then, quietly, Dom said: "I've never wanted him to stop. I doubt he'll ever do anything that would make me want him to. He's good at this, Elijah. He knows when it's enough."

Billy smiled.

~

They were talking about Dom as if he wasn't there, which was actually rather funny.

"If he said to stop, I'd stop," Billy said, and toed Elijah in the back of the head.

"Quit it, fucker," Elijah demanded absently, punching buttons on the controller, his attention unwavering. "You mean he has never once said to stop?"

Billy laughed. "No. He has occasionally threatened me with physical harm if I _did_ stop. Besides, I like 'harder' and 'more' and 'stop teasing me, you cunt' better anyhow."

Elijah paused the game and looked at Dom thoughtfully.

Dom threw a pillow at him.

~

They were still doing it, only now Elijah was sitting on Dom's thighs. It was considerably more annoying.

"Do you ever hurt him?" Elijah asked. He took Dom's chin in one hand and turned it, revealing a bruise at the juncture of jaw and neck. He licked it, and Dom squirmed.

"On occasion," Billy said.

The two of them chatting in the middle of this didn't feel as weird as it probably should.

"Does he like it?"

Right, enough of that. "Yes," Dom said, and bucked. Elijah tumbled to one side. He didn't resist when Dom pinned him. "He does."

~

"If you want one," Billy said, lips tickling against Elijah's neck, "then you can have one. It's that simple."

Elijah gasped as Dom bit down firmly on a nipple. Dom's teeth and tongue made thinking difficult. Billy's didn't help either.

"I'm just trying to figure out," he panted. He yelped at Dom's hand on his cock, struggling to regain his train of thought. "Boundaries," he groaned, finally. "Just... trying to see... how far."

Elijah turned his head, and Billy found his lips, sharp teeth and twisting, heated tongue.

Dom's mouth closed around his cock, and he groaned against Billy's lips.

~

"Why haven't I ever heard him scream like that?" Elijah demanded, breathless and awed. "Holy Christ, _look_ at him!"

His voice sounded distant. Bill had stopped, paused to listen to Elijah, and Dom pushed back, insistent.

"I usually have my hand over his mouth when I do that," Billy murmured, a raspy growl.

"I want to..." Elijah said, and Elijah's hands were abruptly pushing Dom upright, and consequently back, onto Billy's cock and against Billy's chest. Billy bit off a curse behind him, and Dom groaned, caught between them. "Where do I...?"

"There," Billy snarled. "Use your teeth."

Dom screamed.

~

"I want to fuck him," Elijah said. He was stroking his own cock, slowly, his eyes devouring Dominic, sprawled out, flushed and boneless and sweaty.

"So fuck him," Billy said, and moved slightly to one side, giving him room.

Elijah slid forward, pushed apart Dominic's unresisting thighs. "He doesn't look like he even knows I'm here."

Billy laughed. "He hasn't come down yet. He'll know soon enough."

Elijah frowned. "And it's okay? Okay to just do this, just...?"

"Trust me, Elijah. He's up for it."

"I don't want to hurt him," Elijah whispered.

"Not even if he wants you to?"

~

They were quiet, but after something like that, Dom was ultra-aware of them. He was drifting, warm and lethargic, satisfied, aching a little. Content. He listened and didn't feel any need to participate.

"Not for me," Elijah said. "For him. He should have one, Bill, because I don't know about this stuff. And the things I want to do..." He took a deep breath. "Oh, Christ, the things I want to do to him."

"Okay, alright," Billy soothed gently. "I'll be here, Elijah. I wouldn't let you go too far."

"What if you're filming?"

"We'll talk in the morning, okay?"

~

"Wake up, you," Dom murmured, and poked Elijah in the ribs. Elijah grumbled sleepy objections and curled himself into the warmth of Dom's side. "Thanks, Bill," Dom said, and something ice-cold and wet touched Elijah's neck.

He shrieked and convulsed into a sitting position.

"Orange juice?" Dom offered, grinning. Elijah could hear Billy snickering nearby.

"Cunts," Elijah groused.

"Been thinking," Billy said, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It wouldn't hurt us to have an all-purpose sort of safeword."

Elijah blinked and tried to focus. Dom seemed to be trying to stifle laughter.

That didn't bode well.

~

"You're sick," Elijah gaped, disbelieving. Dom was trying not to laugh, but was merely succeeding in doing so without much actual noise.

"What?" Billy asked. He didn't do innocent eyes as well as Elijah, but he tried anyhow.

"That's... man, that's just... that's so utterly sick!" Elijah stammered.

"You have to admit, it is the perfect word," Dom gasped out. "Stop everything even remotely sexual in under a second."

"Let's take a vote," Billy suggested. "All in favor of the universal safeword being 'P.J.' say aye."

"Aye!" Dom giggled.

"Two against one, you're outvoted," Billy snickered.

Elijah sighed. "Sick fuckers."


	11. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the eleventh part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

It wasn't that they were fucking on the kitchen table -- he was used to it, had participated in it himself on occasion, though he still had a screaming attack of Lysol use afterward. It was the particular configuration of limbs, so unprecedented that for a moment it wouldn't sort itself out into two people in Elijah's head. It was just arms and legs and a couple of asses, and he had _known_ this, yeah -- because Dom had told him the first night -- but he'd never _seen_ it.

Never seen Dom bent over Billy's back, never seen the shift and flex of Dom's ass as he was pushing into Billy, never seen the hard, tight lines of Billy's arms, fingers wrapped firmly around the edges of the table, and for a moment it was too unexpected, too unreal to resolve itself in his brain.

 _They shouldn't still be able to undo me like this,_ he thought distantly, though they had both proved again and again, that they could. His feet shuffled forward on their own, bringing him around them so that he could see it ( _them_ ) at another angle, and take in the curve of Billy's back and the line of his throat, exposed and flushed, his head thrown back, his features twisted into a grimace of something that Elijah really doubted was pain. Dom had one arm around Billy's waist, his hand out of Elijah's sight, and the other was splayed on the tabletop, fingertips curled slightly, as if attempting to gouge into the wood to steady himself. Dom's face was twisted, too, deeply red and creased into an almost desperate expression of restraint.

 _Wow,_ he thought, and his strongest urge was to move up behind Dom, run his fingers down Dom's sweaty back, fit his hips up against Dom's ass and _grind_. He stayed where he was instead, unwilling to break the tableau, the perfect, almost gentle juxtaposition of their bodies.

Dom's hips were moving, an unhurried, rhythmic rocking, and Elijah could see the muscles of his forearm moving under the skin, equally slowly, as he stroked Billy. For a moment Elijah was tempted to drop to his knees, just to see it, to see Billy's blood-flushed cock and Dom's long-fingered, competent hand at work on it, but the impulse fled almost as soon as it was born. He wasn't willing to interrupt them, didn't want to distract them.

He just wanted to _see_ this, see them, so obviously lost in each other that they weren't even aware of him there. Another time it might've prickled at him, but for the moment he was entirely without envy for either of them. He was enamored of the lines of their bodies, their faces, the slick, soft smack of skin moving against skin, and the deep, harsh sound of Billy breathing. Dom seemed not to be breathing much at all, and Elijah watched his head fall back, lips open and slick, eyes clenched shut as though in pain, and listened to Dom's breath rush out, watched his chest hitch as he sucked in another breath and held it.

Billy let out a soft sound, a breathy moan, and Dom's brows contracted for a moment, eyes squeezing shut more tightly, and then he breathed again, once, deep, and held it.

He was listening, Elijah realized, to Billy. Dom was listening, and he didn't want to miss anything.

It took him a moment to realize that _he_ wasn't breathing either, that he was doing the same thing, and when he did, his breath escaped him in a rush, abruptly loud.

He wasn't surprised when they turned toward him. They were both very observant; the surprise lay in the fact that they hadn't heard him come in and shut the door. That might have bothered Elijah, once, the idea that the two of them had, even for just a little while, been more or less oblivious to his existence. He was mostly past that now; he'd been alone with each of them, and he knew how easy it was, how very easy, to completely lose yourself.

Dom's hips didn't slow or stutter their rhythm; his eyes were dark with lust, but his lips curled for a moment, a passing smile of greeting. Billy's eyes were bright and aware, and less different from usual than Elijah thought they ought to look, considering.

"Hello," Elijah said hoarsely. "I can go," he offered.

Unsurprisingly, it was Billy who answered for both of them. "Only if you want to," he said, and then hissed, his eyes dropping closed, as Dom's rhythmic rocking pushed his dick home.

"Fuck," Elijah said, and knew there was no way he was leaving, not if they didn't care if he stayed, and he found himself groping with the hand that should be holding a cup of coffee, groping until he found the back of one of the chairs, and curled his fingers around it, just for something steady to anchor him.

"Mmm," Dom agreed, lips curving upward again, but his head was tipped back, and he was smiling up at the ceiling with his brows still contracted with concentration.

Elijah had to reach into his jeans and adjust himself; he was so hard that he thought it was possible his dick would break off if he left it hanging down his fucking leg.

"Dom," Billy said, hoarse but strong, and Dom's brows twisted, his eyes clenching, and the tiny smile fell away from his face. Elijah saw the muscles in his arm -- the one wrapped around Billy's waist, hand hidden from Elijah's sight -- ripple and spasm, and Billy made a choked, snarling sound as Dom's hips stuttered forward as well, his careful rhythm broken. "Dom," Billy repeated, and Elijah had no idea what it was that was happening between them, though he didn't doubt for a second that they both did. And watching them together was amazing, watching Billy coax Dom into soft compliance, watching Dom goad Billy into fiercely controlled retaliation, just watching them was, God, so good, but this was another thing altogether.

Every time Elijah thought there was nothing else, nothing that could flash white heat into his mind and body the way that it had the first time the three of them had been together or the first time Billy had finally ( _finally_ ) fucked him or the first time _he_ had been the one chained to the headboard rather than Dom, something like this happened. It was like an endless progression of first times, and intellectually he was sure they had to run out of things like this sooner or later, somewhere deeper, somewhere in his gut, he thought that would never happen. They were both so fucking creative, so fucking willing to do the things Elijah occasionally thought about but never spoke of, that some part of him was sure it would never end. They would always be able to steer him into that singular state, that anticipatory uncertainty that first times were always steeped in.

"Please," Dom breathed. "Please, Bills." It was less pleading than it was a sincere expression of desire, a kind of raw honesty that Dom excelled at, delivered in that tone that said he would do whatever Billy wanted, whatever Billy demanded, and to please take that into consideration before denying him.

"Shh, Dommie," Billy murmured gently, but his eyes never left Elijah's. Nevertheless, Dom subsided, his movements becoming steady and even again. "Are you joining us?" Billy asked, and Elijah saw that Billy's lips were wet and his eyes were odd, slightly glazed maybe. Clearly he wasn't as unaffected by Dom fucking him as he'd like them to believe.

"Am I invited," Elijah asked, his voice coming thick and throaty, desire twisting hotly at the root of his belly that was fueled by a spark of something fierce.

"You're always invited," Billy said simply, and warmth bloomed in Elijah's chest to match that in his belly. Perhaps, by now, he shouldn't need to be told. But. It was sure nice, anyway. "Get undressed."

It wasn't quite a command, but Elijah didn't waste time in complying to ponder what it was. When he bent to shove his jeans down, he glanced up and saw Billy's hand close over Dom's, wrapped around Billy's dick, and squeeze gently before pulling Dom's hand away.

Billy's dick was deeply red, the head slick and gleaming where it emerged from its foreskin. Predictably, Elijah's mouth watered, and he felt his cheeks heat with something twisty and confused that seemed comprised of equal parts lust and mortification. He realized somewhat belatedly that he'd frozen, half bent-over, staring at Billy's dick. He hastily shoved his jeans the rest of the way off and straightened.

Dom, now having a free hand, was drawing a side of his thumb lingeringly down the line of Billy's spine; it slid easily along, lubricated with a visible sheen of sweat, and Dom seemed captivated by it. Billy's eyes were closed, and he was making a quiet sound more closely related to a croon than Elijah would have guessed him capable of, quite frankly.

Elijah opened his mouth and murmured, "I want to fuck you," without any actual premeditation, but he wasn't really surprised to hear it, either. In his mind, at least, that statement held the equivalent of a mathematical given. Of course he wanted to fuck Billy. Only monks and very old ladies didn't want to fuck Billy.

And Elijah wasn't too sure about the monks. Or the little old ladies, come to think of it.

Billy's eyes fluttered for a moment -- Elijah felt his dick twitch in response -- and his lips curled into a smile. He looked, for a moment, like Dom sometimes looked when Billy fucked _him_ , flushed and mussed and completely content. And God, how it suited Billy. Elijah hadn't ever seen it and might not have believed it had he been told, but it was undeniable.

The hard knot of want in Elijah's belly was a sharp thing, something with edges that Elijah had so far only released on Dom, and yeah, oh yeah, he wanted Billy under him and looking like that, wet mouth and beaded sweat on his upper lip. God, did he ever.

"Come on," Billy said, and Elijah tugged his gaze away from Billy's lush mouth and saw that Billy had opened his eyes and was watching Elijah.

"I want to fuck you," Elijah repeated more fiercely this time, voice skirting on the edge of demand.

Billy smiled -- not a smirk, nothing so familiar, but not a very open expression either -- and said, "Another time. C'mere."

"Now," Elijah insisted, but his feet were shuffling forward and he didn't try to stop them. Billy's gaze went sharp and dark, his lips thinned, and Elijah decided to rephrase that. "Why not now?"

Billy arched a brow, but didn't comment on the pseudo-retreat. "Because Dom is fucking me now," he said reasonably, and uncurled one hand from the edge of the table to curl his fingers around Elijah's naked hip instead. He felt the edge of Billy's thumb slide-scraping along his hipbone and his chin wanted to lift at the frission of it, his spine wanted to soften, and he couldn't suppress a shudder. "And I want you under me," Billy added, voice going deep and rough. Elijah's dick jumped in agreement. "On your back," Billy directed, drawing Elijah close with nothing but the slight pressure of his fingertips. "On the table." He shifted, and Dom went still behind him, his hand stilling, fingers splayed across Billy's lower back. Billy levered himself upward with one arm, muscles shifting and moving under slick and sweaty skin, and guided Elijah closer.

Elijah noticed he wasn't resisting and wasn't surprised, even though the darkling hunger in his gut hadn't entirely retreated. It was a bit of an exercise to bend backward and slide under Billy's body without disengaging Dom, but it was worth it. Billy was drenched with sweat -- the windows faced east, and the sun was streaming hotly directly onto the table, making Elijah wonder why _there_ , why not someplace more comfortable -- and his skin slid and skidded warmly against Elijah's. "Want to fuck you," Elijah muttered, and Billy laughed and kissed him, just brushed his lips lightly along Elijah's lips, then his brow, his temple, his jaw.

"Another time," he promised, and shifted languidly against Elijah's chest, hips retreating for a moment, and then arching back into heated contact, this time with Billy's dick wedged between them, tucked right up beside Elijah's own. "Another time," he repeated, voice mellow and almost dreamy, and Elijah couldn't look away from Billy's face. He'd been wrong to think Billy wasn't different like this.

He wasn't subbing. It wasn't that particular kind of open, the flushed and mindless eagerness that both Dom and Elijah had been known to succumb to. But he _was_ different.

"Want your skin," he breathed, but it wasn't sharp, there was no demand. His face reflected a kind of relaxed and softened pleasure that wasn't at all like his normal keen and cutting desire. He dipped his head down and licked a path from Elijah's chest to his neck, humming quietly, and Elijah's dick jolted and twitched between them. "Your skin," Billy breathed into the indentation between Elijah's collarbones, right at the base of his throat. He said it as though Elijah's skin was something exotic and coveted, and Elijah's hips arched upward, increasing the pressure of their bellies on his dick. He hissed slightly from between clenched teeth, Billy's hips flexed in response, and Elijah felt it when Dom started moving again, the motion translated into pressure, friction, though it was slow and rhythmic and gentle. Billy hummed again, chest vibrating against Elijah's, and Elijah felt the sweat prickling on his neck and face and back and belly, and wondered again about their choice of location, but distantly this time, and without much interest.

"You could fuck me," Elijah invited, and squirmed involuntarily at the idea of Billy fucking him while Dom fucked Billy, but Billy just laughed and slid his elbow upward, bracing it to support his weight, and slid his fingers into Elijah's hair.

"Just your skin," Billy murmured, and pushed his dick against the dip of Elijah's belly. Billy's eyelids fluttered closed and he sighed, his fingers tightening in Elijah's hair, but not painful. "You have beautiful skin, so warm, 'Lijah, so good…"

Elijah's breath stuttered and caught, which seemed faintly ridiculous considering the simplicity and relative innocence of Billy's words (as compared to the kind of things Billy usually said, anyway). He managed to say, "Okay," and he meant it completely. The hungry burn in his belly was finally unclenching, and the drugged heat that was taking it's place was entirely familiar.

"And your hands," Billy whispered. "Touch me, Elijah," and Dom groaned softly even as Elijah's hands, lying open on the tabletop, twitched in response.

No one had to tell him how rare this kind of open invitation was from Billy, and he slid his hands along Billy's hips deliberately, tugging him down into firmer contact at the seemingly crucial place where their bodies touched. Billy's lips curled faintly up and his lashes threw shadows across his cheekbones. Elijah watched his face, absolutely enthralled, until Billy buried his face in Elijah's neck, tugging Elijah's head gently to one side to expose it, tongue darting out to taste briefly, then returning to lave at Elijah's skin at a leisurely pace. Elijah slid his hands up along Billy's ribs, feeling the ridges of them under the smooth skin beneath his fingertips, and it was weird feeling Billy shift and sigh, move into Elijah's touch, weird but fucking _good,_ almost intoxicating.

It was easy to become absorbed in it, the muscles moving under the skin of Billy's back, the indentations along either side of his spine, the angles of his shoulder blades and the faintly curling tendrils of damp hair at the nape of Billy's neck. "Your skin," Billy mouthed almost soundlessly against Elijah's throat, and then drew upward to kiss him, not once but again and again, quiet kisses, the slick slide of wet lips and darting tongues that nevertheless were deep but brief and almost ephemeral, soft and sweet and meltingly hot. "Your skin," Billy said again, this time with his mouth sliding against Elijah's, his voice a languid slur, "so beautiful, so fine, you know I want to mark it up."

Elijah swallowed something that wanted to be a moan and just said, "I know," instead, their lips never leaving contact entirely. Billy's cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-closed, and even saying those words, words that would've have fit better, maybe, in another situation, he sounded unfocused somehow, lacked the edges that Elijah was so used to. He thought it should have bothered him, somehow, or maybe made things _less_ heated and irresistible, but it did not. Nothing of the kind, actually.

Elijah's hips found the combination of Billy's voice (drugged, that was it, he sounded almost drugged, like Dom sometimes sounded) and the idea that (in spite of Billy's present lack of urgency) Billy wanted to mark him, impossible to resist, and he was grinding upward, not exactly roughly, but with his hands firmly pulling Billy down and against him hard enough to make his breath hitch and catch.

"Bill," Dom whispered hoarsely, and Elijah clearly felt Billy shudder, felt him react to Dom's voice as Elijah himself might have done, and suddenly he was grinding up harder, this time with intent behind it. Billy's response was to mirror Elijah's, and abruptly they were tense and writhing, cocks and hipbones colliding, glancing off slick skin, and then shoved back together, and Dom moaned in apparent approval. "Want you to come with my cock inside you, Billy," Dom said, low and tight. "Please, Billy, want to feel that."

Billy moaned quietly, and Elijah moaned at Billy moaning rather more loudly, and Billy hissed, "Yesss," a long susurration of sound, his eyes fluttering the rest of the way closed, while his hips flexed and twisted, downward pressure that Elijah found himself matching fiercely.

"God, Bill," Dom choked out, and Billy shuddered again, his breath hot and erratic against Elijah's lips. One of Dom's hands closed over one of Elijah's, dragging Billy backward, away, and Elijah jerked him back, fought to retain the slick pressure of Billy's hips jammed up against his own.

"Yess," Billy breathed again, and Elijah saw that his eyes were open again, but Billy was absent. For a moment there was nothing, a fine green ring around depthless black pools, and then Billy's hips rolled forward and he made a sound, low and unfamiliar, a tiny mewl of sound that was distinctly un-Billy, yet fundamentally sexy, guttural and needy, _helpless_. He felt Billy go stiff and shuddery, his eyes first sagged closed and then clenched tight. He let out a long, low moan and his head dropped forward, brow against Elijah's, and a moment later there was slickness and warmth between them, and Elijah came silently, without warning, the easiest, calmest orgasm of his life, perfectly matched with the slow burn of the encounter.

Dom, conversely, fucking _exploded_ , a stream of reverent and indecipherable babble punctuated by vicious jabs of his hips which Elijah could feel as Billy's hipbones smashing uncomfortably into his own, discordant jolts of pain that penetrated his pleasant post-orgasmic haze, but weren't bad enough to make him move away. "Oh, God, ohfuck, the way you _feel_ ," Dom groaned, and then he was shuddering, his body bowed over Billy's back, face jammed up against Billy's shoulder blade. His hand clenched and grasped around Elijah's, another sliver of pain that Elijah couldn't bring himself to object to, and when he stilled, finally, his breathing harsh and loud, his weight on them was heavy but perfect.

"Jesus," Elijah whispered shakily, and Billy's eyes opened less than an inch away from Elijah's. He blinked blearily, and then smiled crookedly. Elijah's arms went up and around Billy without thought, and he kissed Billy's jaw, his chin, and finally his mouth.

Billy kissed him back with an easy, unhurried acceptance that wasn't true submission, but was as close as Elijah had ever seen him, close enough that Elijah wanted to taste it, keep it as long as he could, and Billy accepted it, making no objection to Elijah's hands holding his face. It turned out that Billy was willing to allow it for quite a while, long and lovely minutes that only ended when Elijah's kisses turned to heated little bites, and even then Billy pulled away slowly, almost reluctantly.

Billy hissed quietly when Dom pulled back, out of him and away from both of them, and Elijah watched, fascinated, as Billy withdrew, his face shifting and settling into a more familiar aspect and tension seeped into muscles that had been lax and yielding.

He wondered if Dom had known, and then dismissed the uncertainty. Of course Dom had, had probably felt it long before Elijah had seen it, and Dom being what he was, had complied.

Elijah wasn't sure he would have done the same. He wasn't sure he could have Billy there, so close to being _beneath_ him, and then just let it go. Billy probably knew that. Elijah wasn't like Dom; he neither needed as deeply nor gave as completely. He thought it was pretty likely that that was why Dom got to fuck Billy, and so far, Elijah had not.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but when Billy straightened gingerly and offered Elijah his hand while he turned his body to allow Dom to lean, shivering, against his chest, Elijah was content to put it aside for the moment.


	12. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the twelfth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

"Hey," Elijah said, coming up behind Dom in the kitchen while he was making a sandwich and humming "Strawberry Fields." Billy was out running errands, and while Elijah hadn't deliberately waited for Billy to be absent to attempt this particular conversation, he was sort of glad it had worked out that way. Dom was easily sidetracked, and Elijah wasn't sure he had the nerve to have the conversation with both of them at once. Dom turned just enough to let Elijah know he was listening, but didn't pause in either humming or sandwich-fashioning. "I wanted to ask you something." He could hear the slight diffidence in his own tone, and was sort of irritated by it, but if Dom heard it he didn't show it.

"What's that?" Dom asked, now slicing tomatoes with homicidal furor.

Elijah eyeballed the knife for a minute, pondering the possibility that Dom might cut off his own finger and have to be rushed to the emergency room, which would make this a rather bad time for this conversation. Then he dismissed the idea. Dom had never cut himself as far as Elijah knew, and he was really just trying to think of a reason not to embarrass the hell out of himself. "I wondered," he began, shifting uncomfortably, and then started over. "That is, do you remember when Billy hit you?"

Dom's knife stopped in mid-cut. For a moment, he was very still. Elijah could see the lines of his shoulder blades clearly beneath the skin of his back, partially concealed by the material of his grey wifebeater. Then Dom finished the cut, and pushed the slice of tomato to the side of the cutting board with several of its fellows. He lay the knife down, and turned to look at Elijah. "Which time?" he asked, lips curling into a smile. But his eyes were dark.

Elijah shrugged, feeling his face heat up. "The first time he fucked me," he said bluntly, though Dom's question rather lay his own to rest.

Dom nodded, eyes unblinking on Elijah's face. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Elijah muttered, and Dom arched a doubtful brow. "A bunch of reasons, but I'm not sure I know how to say," Elijah admitted, and Dom nodded.

"You want a sandwich, Elwood?" he asked casually, but he was still looking at Elijah with deep eyes that made Elijah's belly tight and warm.

"No, thanks."

"Grab a couple of beers and come sit at the table with me while I eat?"

"Okay," Elijah agreed, quietly relieved that Dom seemed amenable to this particular conversation without any need for Elijah to lay out his reasons for wanting to have it. Dom could be a difficult prick, especially when he sensed the opportunity to tease the shit out of Elijah about something.

Of course, this was a different thing entirely, and Elijah knew it. Dom wouldn't tease him about this.

Elijah grabbed a couple of bottles of Dos Equis from the 'fridge and a couple of glasses from the cupboard, and joined Dom, who was already at the table with his monstrous sandwich. He poured the beer into the glasses; by the time he was done with that Dom had devoured around half the sandwich with giant bites and loud, disgusting chewing.

"You're gross," Elijah muttered, and shoved Dom's glass toward him across the tabletop.

Dom grinned, mouth half open and full of partially masticated sandwich. "I'm a guy," he pointed out around a mouthful of food.

"A disgusting guy," Elijah agreed. "Don't make me call your mom."

Dom snorted, half-choked on his mouthful of sandwich, and then drained half his glass of beer to wash it down. "Trust me, Elwood, you do _not_ want me thinking of my mum while we have this conversation."

Elijah smirked, but privately agreed, so let the matter drop. For God's sake, he didn't want his thoughts anywhere near his own mom while simultaneously considering the possibility of masochism as a legitimate sexual outlet. "Are we having a conversation?" he asked instead, both a little pointedly and plaintively.

"About to," Dom said equably, still wolfing down his sandwich, but managing to speak clearly enough in spite of that. "I'm thinking."

"You're stuffing your face," Elijah pointed out, but he relaxed a little.

"Brain food," Dom informed him, quite muffled by the entire last fourth of the sandwich this time.

"I don't know how you can eat like that and stay so disgustingly skinny," Elijah said, which was ridiculous, of course. They all ate like horses, and none of them ever gained any weight.

"Kinky sex is a good exercise regime," Dom said, echoing what Elijah had been thinking. He swallowed the remainder of his mouthful and then downed the rest of his beer in several long swallows.

Elijah waited, more or less patiently this time.

Dom sat back in his chair, belched, and considered Elijah for a moment. "You want to know what I get out of it?" he asked finally, looking at Elijah with his face tipped slightly down, so his eyes were shadowed. "If I like it, or if I let him because _he_ likes it."

"More or less," Elijah agreed a little croakily. That wasn't quite it; or it was, but it wasn't _all_ of it, he supposed, but it was a good enough place to start.

"You've only seen him hit me the once, haven't you?" Dom said, sounding as if it surprised him a little. Then he nodded as though answering his own question. "Yeah. He's careful of you, you know?"

Elijah did know, more or less, so he nodded, but didn't say anything.

Dom scratched at his head, making his hair stand up in twisty little spikes in places. "Do you know the place that you get to," he said almost dreamily, and tilted his head to rest it on the back of his chair, his eyes going half-closed, "after a while, sometimes just a few minutes, sometimes longer. The place where you forget yourself, and you're just skin and nerve endings and cock?"

Dom's position stretched his neck in an oddly expressive fashion; the ritualistic offering of the throat, almost. "Yeah," Elijah said hoarsely, feeling his dick twitch within the confines of his jeans and sweat prickle at the back of his neck and underarms.

"Yeah," Dom agreed breathily, stretching his arms up and back and holding them above his head for a moment, wrists crossed, an unmistakable pantomime that sparked something hot into existence in Elijah's belly. "Yeah, you know." He sighed and slowly lowered his arms until they dangled loose on either side of the chair. "There are lots of ways to get there, Elijah," Dom said, his voice a deep purr, and Elijah watched, a little surprised to see Dom slipping into submission right in front of his eyes, without prodding or guidance of any kind. Just talking himself into it, maybe not very deep, but definitely more than Elijah'd seen Dom do before on his own. Dom regarded him from beneath his lashes, glittery but not with challenge. "It's different with pain, a different kind of thing, but… yeah, good. It can be good. And Billy's good at it." His lips curled a little, the faintest hint of something dark and knowing.

"It's not one or the other, though, is it," Elijah said, not a question but a statement, something he _felt_.

"Not often," Dom agreed, sliding down in his chair slightly, knees spread wide to frame the bulge in his jeans that Elijah had noticed, but was concentrating on not looking at for the moment. "Depends on the sub, on the circumstances, on a lot of things, really. And sometimes it's the same thing, really."

Elijah frowned a little, not in disagreement but more lack of understanding.

"Trust me," Dom sighed, and shifted a little, muscles moving in a shivering ripple for a moment, like he was almost feeling it when he said, "There will be times when that's what you want, I reckon. Just that. Just the burn and the bite of it on your skin."

"What about…?" Elijah began, but Dom waved a lazy hand to interrupt him.

"I can't tell you about that. I've never really wanted to hit anyone in my life. Not like that, anyway. You'll have to ask Billy if you want to know about the other side of it. _This_ is what I know." He rested open palms on his chest and stroked downward, fingers splayed, to his thighs. "I know what it is to want to _feel_ it, to have my skin itch for it, but not what it feels like to want to _do_ it." He smiled, with teeth and sharp edges. "You already know more about that than I ever will."

It was, Elijah thought, a little bit freaky how borderline psychic Dom sometimes seemed when he went all needy and bristling. "You've topped _me_ ," he pointed out, more curious than challenging and Dom's lips quirked a little.

"With a lot of help," he agreed, but he didn't pretend not to understand what Elijah was getting at. He stood and circled around behind his own chair to cross to the refrigerator and grab another beer. He waggled the bottle at Elijah over the top of the door, and Elijah just nodded, though he still had maybe a quarter of a glass left. His mouth and throat felt awfully dry, and he figured if the conversation continued on much longer, he'd need another. Dom snagged another bottle and returned to the table, sliding it across the surface of the wood to slap into Elijah's waiting palm, before sinking back down into his chair. "Yeah, I occasionally want a little bit of control," he said, rolling one shoulder in a pseudo-shrug. He looked, Elijah thought, like it embarrassed him a little to admit it. "Not that often, and I'm not that good at it." He gave Elijah long look, taking a drink of beer directly from the bottle, not bothering with the glass this time. "I don't even _want_ to be that good at it," he admitted, and gave another of those curious half-shrugs, the echo of what might have been embarrassment still lingering on his face. "I'm not like you; I don't really have a strong desire to be the one driving. When I do want it, it's usually because of something I want to be the cause of. Does that make sense?"

Elijah cocked his head and considered. "Sometimes you want to be the one to…" he paused, thinking aloud, really, and tried to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. "You want to cause the… unraveling?" It sounded odd, almost melodramatic, when he said it out loud, but if _felt_ like the right word, nevertheless.

"Sometimes I want to be the one to cause _your_ unraveling," Dom corrected, and his smile was wry, a little self-deprecating. "I see you, when Bills has you down deep, and you're so fucking…" Dom stopped, tipped his head to one side, then took a thoughtful swallow of beer. He shook his head. "Sometimes I want to be the one to do that to you, is all." He shrugged. "Seeing it done isn't always enough."

And that was something Elijah understood perfectly well. His cheeks were a bit warm with pleasure, and he grinned. Dom grinned back.

"But don't mistake that for being a dominant. I'm just not, and I'm not likely to ever be. I'm happy with what I am, satisfied. I sometimes want to be on top, yeah, but not because I don't want to be on the bottom. I just want that feeling, sometimes, that understanding that you are… open to me. And even then, Elijah, it's a comfort, for me, to know that Billy is there, and that he _has_ me. Do you get that?"

"Yeah," Elijah agreed. "I get that." And he did. But he wasn't sure it actually answered his question.

Dom seemed to understand that, and was already nodding. "Pain just isn't one of those things, for me. It isn't one of the things I want to cause, not even understanding what I get from it when it's what _I_ want. It's not that I don't want you to have it, if that's what you want." He smirked and arched one brow. "This is why I'm not a top often, or a very good one. Even if you wanted that from me, I wouldn't be able to give it to you. I'm not… generous enough to put aside what I want and put away how I feel, and give you what you need in that way."

That didn't feel exactly right to Elijah though; Dom was one of the most generous people Elijah knew. "I don't think that's true."

Again, Dom nodded. "In a lot of ways, it's not. I'm just saying, in this case it's true. I don't want to hit you. It makes me..." He hesitated, eyes going a little vague, clearly groping for the right words, the right phrase. "I don't know how to do it safely, and I don't _want_ to know. I would be…" another hesitation, this time accompanies by that oddly shamefaced half-shrug. "I would be jealous… that's not quite the right word, but I can't think…" He stopped and took a swallow of his beer. His gaze was frank but a little puzzled. "When I do top you, that's what I want, you know? Want to have you like that, feel you all soft and bare. But if I were to try to push it further, if it went beyond just a bit of a rough fuck, I'd be… it wouldn't be… I'd be wishing I was you, or wishing I was in your position, and that would make it… all wrong."

"Okay," Elijah said, "yeah, that makes sense." But Dom was shifting anxiously, now, and the slow burn of impending submission had slid out of his face. Elijah briefly considered trying to get it back. He could, he thought. But then he decided not to. Doing that now would feel too much like manipulation, and not the good kind of manipulation that the three of them indulged in rather frequently. So he didn't do anything, instead sitting silently across from Dom -- available, if Dom needed something from him, but unwilling to push -- and sipped at his second beer.

After a minute or two, Dom tilted his chin up and grinned at him. "So, why now? Why all the questions about this now?" It was an easy question, coming from Dom. It was actually more the kind of question that Billy was apt to ask, blunt and bare and very plain, whereas Dom was more inclined to imply and tease and smirk.

Elijah was pretty sure Dom was trying to put him at ease. He frowned a little, and took a swallow of his beer to give himself a second to think about how he wanted to answer the question.

"I've been thinking about it," he said finally, and glanced up to look at Dom briefly. "Since I saw him hit you, because of the way that… the way it made me feel." Dom nodded, but Elijah was staring at his beer bottle; he could only see it as motion out of the corner of his eye. "And I'm still not exactly sure how… I mean. I'm sure of how it makes me feel, but I can't tell if it's because I want to _do_ … that, or because…" He could feel himself flushing, which was stupid, but he couldn't help.

"Because you want it done to you," Dom finished for him, and when Elijah looked up to see if Dom was making fun of him, he wasn't. Of course. He looked sympathetic. "The first time, for me, freaked me right the bloody hell out," he said, twirling his bottle between his angular hands. "I didn't rightly know what to think. Even with what we do." He stopped and looked up to catch Elijah's gaze. "Even with what we do the rest of the time, it's a big deal. And it's not something everyone gets, or wants. Might not be something you end up liking. Might scare you." He nodded once, solemnly. "More than the good scared, I mean," he added with a small smile, which Elijah returned because he knew all about the good scared. "Don't know, Elijah. Could be one, could be the other. Could be both. Might ought to just… wait and see a while?"

"That's what I thought, too, but it's…" Elijah stopped, frustrated. He didn't know how to say what it was doing.

"Itching at you," Dom said knowingly, and yeah, that was exactly it.

"Yeah," he agreed softly. "Itching at me." Driving him a little crazy, making him think about doing things to provoke Billy even though he wasn't sure he wanted that, just so that he'd know.

"Tell Billy," Dom said simply.

Elijah could feel himself blushing.

For a minute or so, neither of them said anything.

"Okay," Dom said finally, and stood up. He came around the table and hunkered down next to Elijah's chair and caught Elijah's chin gently, turning so that they were face to face. "What about this; I'll see if Billy's up for thrashing me. Let you have a real good look at it. I won't tell him why if you don't want me to. But when you're ready to talk about it again, after this, talk to _Billy_. Okay?"

"Do you… I mean. I don't want you to do it just for me. That would be…"

Dom smirked faintly. "Don't you get it, Elwood? I get off on doing things just for you." It might've been funny, but that look was swimming in Dom's eyes again, dark and intent. "You don't think I'll get off on knowing you're watching that, that you want to see it, maybe want to do it to me?" His tongue peeped out and swept briefly across his lower lip. "Don't pretend you don't know how that affects me."

"Okay," Elijah agreed a little hoarsely, aware that his dick was firming up again inside his Levis. "I won't pretend I don't know."

Dom nodded, and leaned in to kiss Elijah briefly, warm brush of slightly damp lips.

"I'll ask when he gets back." He stood up and took a step back. "I'm going to grab a shower."


	13. Consecution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the thirteenth part in a multi chaptered series. It wasn't written in chronological order, and it was written over a long period of time, so I'm aware that some of the tiny details might not match up. If you see such details, and want to email me with suggestions as to how to make them match up, please feel free. If you see them and just want to bitch at me about them, I'd rather you didn't.

Billy didn't do a lot of down-and-dirty beatings. It wasn't because he didn't like them, and it certainly wasn't because _Dom_ didn't like them. It was just not often necessary to get what he wanted from Dom, just as it wasn't often something Dom needed to get what _he_ wanted from Billy.

He wasn't inexperienced, however, not in general and not with Dom, either, and he was comfortable enough with his sense of what Dom needed and when he needed it to question what brought Dom to him with a strap already in hand. There was a subtle progression that lead up to a session with a strap, a slow but perceptible build up, and Billy hadn't seen the need coming any sooner than at least another few weeks.

He gave Dom a long look -- and Dom hadn't given him the strap, either, was still holding it, which was ever-so-slightly wrong -- and Dom smiled a little crookedly. Billy held out a hand, and Dom gave it over without the slightest change of expression. Billy tucked the loop end into the hip pocket of his jeans and stepped around Dom to take the plastic grocery sacks he was carrying into the kitchen.

He could feel Dom following him, playing at being Billy's shadow, and that part was right. There was an understanding between them, even without all the details worked out, and for the next little bit, Dom would be on him like an Irishman on a pint. Not that Dom would know it, or know why. Dom didn't do that, didn't think that way. Billy doubted Dom had ever actively thought about whether or not he was in need of a thrashing once in his entire life. It was Billy who kept track of things like that, Billy who watched for the twitches and snarls that indicated a restive Dominic, and Billy who eventually chose the time and the place and the method.

Even if one did speculate Dom randomly walking up to him and handing him a strap, having got it into his odd little head for whatever incomprehensible Dom-reason, there was something not quite on about Dom just looking at him, so still, with that little smile. Dominic was far more likely to decide on what he wanted and then proceed to maul Billy, or to behave like a total prat until Billy finally beat the snot out of him purely in self-defense.

Billy took his time putting away the groceries and making himself a sandwich. This wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to start on an empty stomach. It took a long time to do it right.

Sandwich made, he turned around and leaned his arse against the countertop to eat it and look at Dom. Dom slumped against the opposite counter and crossed his arms over his belly, and looked back, though he couldn't quite keep his eyes from slipping down to the strap hanging down Billy's thigh every minute or so. It was pretty, to be sure, watching Dom start to kindle, but it was another thing that was off about the whole situation.

For Dom to even do a thing like this, he'd have to be fairly riled already.

Billy finished his sandwich and then his beer, turning to tip the dregs into the kitchen sink. When he turned back, Dom was still looking at him, still silent and unmoving. Billy flicked the strap with the edge of his thumb, and watched Dom's eyes dip down at the motion.

"All right, then," he said, and Dom's chin came up, though it took his eyes a moment to follow. "What's this about?"

Dom's gaze flicked to the strap again, and he licked his lips. Billy didn't ask again, just waited until Dom managed to escape the fascination on his own; when Dom looked up, finally, snaring Billy with dark eyes, Billy was beginning to warm up to the idea. "I," Dom began, and then paused to smile crookedly, a smile Billy might've labeled "sheepish" on anyone else. He arched a brow, and Dom went a bit pink around the ears. "We were talking," he said, and then paused again, as though expecting Billy to be able to extrapolate the rest from those three words arranged in just that way.

In all honestly, Billy thought he likely could; he knew Elijah only slightly less well than he knew Dom, and with that much of a verbal clue, he was fairly certain he could fill in the blanks, if need be.

But Dom didn't want to have to say it, and Dom wasn't exactly the shy sort.

He arched both brows this time, and twitched at the belt with his thumb again, setting it to slapping lightly along the side of his leg. Predictably, Dom's gaze was drawn to the motion, and for a moment his face was bare, fascination and fright in equal parts, and Billy felt himself softening.

"He thinks he knows," Dom murmured, and shook his head slightly, as though to clear it, but he didn't look up. "I mean, he knows he doesn't _really_ , but he thinks he has a fair idea, and…"

Dom did look up, then, and Billy merely nodded. It didn't matter what Elijah thought he knew or understood. A beating -- a real beating, with welts and pain and screams and tears -- couldn't really be explained, couldn't really be grasped until you'd seen, at the very least, and in Billy's mind, at least, even then the understanding couldn't be complete until you'd been on one side or the other of it. The real question was, on which side did Elijah want to be?

Either way, it was going to take some care. Even if Elijah did nothing but watch, it was going to take some care.

He tapped his fingertips lightly against the cool leather of the strap -- Dom's favorite, this one, thick and wide enough to pack a decent wallop -- turning his mind to how he was going to set this up, exactly. They didn't have any of the heavy-duty equipment that was designed for this sort of thing -- he'd never seen any actual need for anything so extravagant for an activity that was occasional with Dominic -- and they had yet to set up the house for anything this specific.

And Dom could take a beating with only the most rudimentary of restraints. At some point, someone had belt broken his Dominic, and nicely; Billy had never asked who. This, though, what was in essence a _demonstration_ , required a certain amount of traditional accoutrements.

In Glasgow, he could've taken them someplace, spent some money on a space designed for just this situation, a place with soundproofing and built-in fixtures. That wasn't an option here, both because he didn't know where to locate such an establishment (though with a bit of time an effort, he didn't doubt he could find out), but more pressingly, because Billy preferred to keep such things at home. The less public scrutiny involved, the better, and even in Glasgow he likely would've chosen not to take them out. In L.A. he had nowhere near the same contacts and resources, and without someone he could trust, it was out of the question.

He was always vaguely uneasy in such places anyhow; he didn't want that uneasiness anywhere near the three of them together.

Better to rig something up here until he could look into setting up something more permanent.

He wiped the crumbs off the counter absently, sweeping them into the sink, and when he looked up again, Dom was watching him and smiling softly.

"Yes?" Billy asked, and Dom merely shook his head and took a couple of steps back so Billy could get by him. Billy let it pass; if he really wanted to know, he'd ask later, during. He went past Dom, down the hall toward his bedroom, Dom playing at being his shadow. They passed by Elijah's open door, but Elijah didn't look up from where he was propped up against the foot of his bed with his love sack behind his shoulders, video game controller gripped tightly in both hands, ever-present headphones rendering him oblivious to goings on that concerned him rather intimately.

He was wearing his glasses. He looked ridiculous and adorable, and Billy deliberately turned his mind away from the pale-perfect skin of his back.

He turned his attention to the kind of space he needed instead, standing in the doorway of the bedroom and surveying it consideringly. He'd thought about it before, but not in any detailed way. He'd thought he'd have time to do some work on the attached two-car garage before they ended up needing so much room. Some soundproofing and carpeting would do wonders, and with the big drive they had no real need of it for their cars.

Dom watched silently as Billy toed off his shoes and climbed up onto the bed so he could reach the ceiling. He tapped about until he found a cross-bream close enough to the edge of the bed for his purposes, and then turned to eyeball the space available between the far side of the bed and the wall. Enough, he thought, if they dragged the bedside table out. Just barely, and it would be limited, but it would do.

"Dom, drag the bedside table out from that side and shove it someplace," Billy directed, and jumped down from the bed to cross the room to the big walk-in closet. In his flat in Glasgow, Billy had had a handful of ringbolts in strategic places, and was relatively certain that he'd kept them. He found them sealed into a sandwich bag and taped into the inside of a suitcase. He pulled them free and emptied the bag into his palm, jingling them thoughtfully as he went back to the bedroom. Dom had shoved the bedside table into the opposite corner, and was merely lurking in the bedroom doorway, waiting. His jeans were visibly tight over his erection, which was enough to make Billy smile. Dom blinked, and Billy said, "Grab the cordless drill from the garage, would you? I need the case with the drill bits as well."

"Okay," Dom agreed, and disappeared from the doorway, silent on bare feet. Billy tossed the ringbolts onto the bed, then stood gazing at the ceiling for a bit again, deciding exactly where and how far apart, and before long Dom was back with the drill.

It took Billy only about two minutes to locate the support beam again and drill a pair of holes. When he popped the bit out and replaced it in the case, he saw Elijah standing in the doorway, watching. Billy gave him a long look, but Elijah said nothing at all, which was not entirely standard. Elijah wasn't shy with the questions.

Elijah already knew what was going on, it seemed. He looked a bit tight, but he didn't look afraid.

Billy tipped his head back up and concentrated on screwing the heavy ringbolts in place, which took rather a lot of effort, and also rained down rather more plaster dust than Billy had expected. Then he hunkered down with his back to the side of the bed and his feet firmly planted, and shoved the heavy bastard until he felt it bump up against the wall. It took a fuckton of bloody effort, and he definitely needed to see about getting the garage sorted. He was getting too old for this shite.

He stripped off his shirt -- also coated with fine white dust -- and tossed it toward the hamper in the corner. "Dom, find the overheads in the cupboard," he instructed, and then turned slightly sideways to pass Elijah in the doorway. Elijah skittered backward out of his way -- Billy didn't smile, somehow -- and Billy ducked into the loo to wash his face.

By the time he made it back, Dom was already attaching the overhead cuffs to the ringbolts, while balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. Billy had positioned them a bit more than two feet apart, judging mostly by he width of Dom's shoulders and spacing them out a bit from that. He watched Dom give each of them a tug in turn, and then wrap one hand around each chain and let his weight briefly hang from them as he stepped down off the bed, biceps flexing as he slowly lowered his feet to the floor.

"Good enough?" Billy asked.

Dom nodded. "They're temporary," he said, and shrugged as though that said it all.

Billy nodded as well. "Loo?" he offered, and Dom cocked his head for a moment, and then grinned.

"Probably better," he agreed. He paused as he passed beside Billy, and Billy kissed him, soft and careful and undemanding. Dom was always a little tender, a little needy, just before and immediately following a beating.

When Dom had disappeared down the hall, Billy fixed his gaze on Elijah. "Get a glass of water with a straw, would you, 'Lijah?" he asked, and Elijah nodded, his face smooth and calm, and left the room.

Billy positioned himself under the cuffs and extended his arms enough to grab the leather just above the cuffs, rolling his shoulders once positioned to check the feel. He was a little uncomfortable, slightly overextended, but Dom was a little taller than Billy, his arms a little longer, and Billy thought it should be fine. He tugged himself upward until his feet were off the floor and hung there for a moment before lowering himself back to the ground. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dom's appraisal; it was just his job to be sure.

He took a couple of steps back, measuring the available space with his eyes. It wasn't ideal -- Billy's preference was to have enough space to be able to do a complete circuit, swinging or not, as he chose -- but it was the best he could do with the bed still in the room. He wondered if there would be enough play in the overheads for Dom to turn around. The ceilings were a little higher than those in Billy's flat had been, and this particular set of cuffs had been purchased to accommodate them. He could use some of the strips of leather in the bedside table to lengthen them if he really needed to, but he didn't want things any more haphazard than they had to be. Better to be a bit limited than to risk equipment unraveling in the middle of things.

Elijah and Dom showed back up nearly in the same moment, and Billy left off frowning up at the ceiling to take the glass of water from Elijah and set it on the bedside table. Dom slid a rolled up washcloth next to it, giving Billy a crooked half-smile. He'd lost his t-shirt in the loo, apparently, and was now sporting nothing but a thoroughly disreputable pair of jeans riddled with holes, covered in Sharpie, and sporting the odd strip of electrical tape. They never failed to make Billy roll his eyes, and this was no exception.

Dom grinned as though pleased Billy had noticed.

"Wanker," Billy muttered, and Dom's grin widened. "Right, let's get you set up."

"Jeans?" Dom asked, hand poised at his waist, but Billy shook his head.

"Leave them for now."

Dom nodded, but Billy could see the faint jump of a muscle flexing in his jaw. One of Dominic's little eccentricities was that it hardly counted as sex, to him, if he wasn't naked. Billy took advantage of this as often as he could; there were many things that Dominic would accept without hesitation during sex, and balk like a mule over any other time. His eyes had gone a shade or two darker, not steel or charcoal, not yet, but enough to make it certain Dom was moving into storm-country. Billy motioned for Dom to get under the cuffs, and Dom moved at once to obey, turning to face the bed without having to be directed, arms going up over his head and into close association with the cuffs.

Billy reached up and unbuckled the left cuff, thick, stiff leather, though these were lined with silk inside in deference to the use for which they were intended. The minor abrasions unlined cuffs might produce would be completely superfluous in this particular situation. "Get the other, 'Lijah?" Billy asked as he wrapped the leather around Dom's wrist and buckled it. These cuffs didn't lock. It wasn't necessary.

Elijah stepped close to Dom opposite Billy and efficiently affixed the leather around Dom's right wrist. He didn't comment.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to be sure that Elijah felt as though he were a party to what was about to happen, a participant. Billy suspected Elijah was going to need that.

"All right, Dom?" Billy murmured -- Dom's breathing had already gone a bit thready and uneven -- and Dom flexed briefly, hands curled into fists, testing the feel of the cuffs, the strength of them, and then just nodded tightly. Elijah had placed a hand on Dom's back and was rubbing light, soothing circles between his shoulder blades. His hand was small and pale against the skin of Dom's back. His face was a little strained, brows scrunched together the faintest bit. "All right, 'Lijah?" Billy asked, because it was folly to pretend he wasn't just as likely to crumble as Dom.

"Oh," Elijah started, jerking his hand away from Dom's back as though Dom's skin had burned him. "Am I, uh, in your way?"

Billy shook his head and caught Elijah's hand, guiding it back to Dom's skin. They were both easier with it there, and Billy had no desire to make them uneasy just yet. "I'm not starting just now," he said, and curled an arm around Elijah's waist, steadying him. After a moment, Elijah relaxed against him, leaning into Billy's side, and his expression went alert and curious as the two of them watched Dominic's back, the slow, soft flex of his breathing, the twitchier bunch of his arms as he shifted, tugging at the cuffs.

Billy gave them both a few minutes to settle to it before circling around Dom to retrieve the strap from where it was curled atop the duvet, a deceptively docile leather S.

Dom bit his lip and looked away. "Ceiling is higher here than at your old flat," he rasped after a minute.

"Aye," Billy agreed. "A bit."

He waited, but Dom didn't appear to have anything to add, which meant he was just talking with nerves, not because the set-up was giving him trouble.

The things they did every day, lighter recreation so to speak, didn't take the same sort of preparation a thing like this required. This was the sort of thing that was meant to be undertaken with great care, the kind of violence that had the potential to mark a sub forever, and Billy was very aware that he was going to be juggling the needs of two subs during the next couple of hours. He knew Dominic, knew how to handle his needs and his reactions, but that didn't make it any easier. Dom wasn't a masochist, though his line for pain was rather broader than most others that Billy had known. Real pain, straight pain, had to be handled just so to get Dom where he ultimately wanted to be.

It was difficult, exhausting for both of them; it was also so fucking beautiful that Billy had literally never been able to find the words to do it justice.

Dom shifted, eyes roaming restlessly from Billy's face to the strap in his hand, and back again. Billy curled a hand around Dom's shoulder to settle him, the sturdy bulk of it fitting neatly into the curve of Billy's palm while the side of his thumb swiped along the sharp ridge of a collar bone.

Elijah was staring at both of them, curiosity and anxiety and tension, but Billy ignored it for the moment in favor of tipping his face to one side so Dominic could strain against the cuffs just enough to kiss him, a brief brush of damply parted lips.

"Billy?" Dom breathed, his tone that particular mix of anticipation and uncertainty, reverence and nerves, that always caused heat to bloom in Billy's chest and belly alike, though for different reasons. Dom's voice was unsteady and artless, hiding nothing, so Billy leaned in far enough to do more than just tease Dom's lips, relishing the heat of his instantly pliant mouth, lips and tongue soft between Billy's teeth. Dom made soft sounds, pain and want and leather creaked as he strained to get closer.

Billy didn't allow it, retreated by degrees, just slow enough to enjoy watching Dom yearning toward him, mouth wet and open, eyes closed. "No," Billy warned softly, and Dom sighed, head dropping to hang forward loosely on his neck for a few seconds. When he looked up again, his eyes were dark and slightly glazed, wanting and waiting, but Billy could see the nerves in them still, the fleeting sharpness and guile that meant his need to bite hadn't been entirely banished.

It had been a while since he'd really ripped Dominic apart, and he wasn't especially surprised by the urge to do so. He could push past that intractability, and drag Dominic with him snarling and screaming. He showed well like that, too, fighting the cuffs and the strap and himself, writhing and cursing with vicious, heated creativity.

It was a shame that it would more than likely scare Elijah spitless.

And he wasn't willing to do that. Not this time, at least.

He didn't know Elijah's reasons for going to Dominic with his questions, and would never ask.

He did know that someday -- probably soon, considering present events -- he would be standing in this spot with the strap in his hand and Elijah's smooth, white skin spread out before him. If he chose to be as ruthless as he could be, as cruel as he'd like to be, right now, that moment would be forever marked by this one in Elijah's mind, and Elijah deserved better. He wasn't like Dom, and was still so sweetly ignorant about too many things to be able to understand that it would be different for _him_. Billy would make it different for him.

So. Restraint.

He slid his fingertips along Dom's jaw, slightly stubbly, a rough contrast to the smooth skin of his shoulder, and thumbed his bottom lip lightly. Dom licked at Billy's thumb and preened a bit beneath the caress, back arched to tip back his head, giving Billy's fingertips access to the column of his throat. Dom's gaze was rapt and hungry, hot on Billy's face, but dropped like a stone when Billy flicked his wrist just enough to set the strap dangling from his hand into motion. The abrupt change in Dom's breathing was clearly audible.

"Dominic," Billy murmured, and Dom wrenched his gaze upward, brows drawing together in a snarl.

"Bill," he growled, and then bit his lip, forced himself quiet. It wasn't something he'd been capable of during those first few months in New Zealand. He had been so needful, then, so raw.

Billy cocked a brow in question, and Dom shook his head the tiniest fraction and tipped his chin up, all determination and injured pride. Billy forced his lips not to quirk into a grin and dropped his hand to Dom's chest, tracing the line of a collar bone until his fingertips dipped into the sweet hollow at the base of Dom's throat. "In a hurry, Dommie?" he asked lightly. Dom tensed, but said nothing. In response, Billy let his fingertips trail downward until they touched the waistband of Dom's jeans, and then skated them along the trembling skin of Dom's belly. Dom shivered and jutted his chin.

Billy did grin, this time. The rigid bulge trapped in Dom's jeans couldn't have been more obvious if he _was_ naked, and Dom's attempts at stoicism crumbled as soon as Billy brushed two fingertips against the head of his cock, applying faint pressure and increasing it by deliberate increments until Dom let out a soft, throaty groan.

"Answer me, Dominic," Billy prompted, and let his hand fall to his side. Dom hissed and swayed slightly forward, but there wasn't enough play in the restraints for him to even come close. Dom didn't hiss this time, but the narrow-eyed glare he fixed Billy with was virulent. "Is that so?" Billy said, deliberately edging his voice with malice, and circled around behind Dominic -- Elijah took two quick steps back to make room, eyes devouring everything -- where Dom couldn't see him.

The first sign of Dom panicking was the way his breathing went too-quick and erratic. Billy wasn't surprised to hear the tell-tale whine of it, though it had been quite a while since he'd last heard it.

There were certain truisms as far as Dominic was concerned, most of which Billy had figured out fairly early on.

One of them was that Dom had no bloody idea why he did the things that he did about ninety percent of the time. His own reactions, both physical and psychological, were a mystery to Dom himself, and Dom was perfectly happy for them to stay that way. It meant that Billy had to know the things about Dom that he didn't know about himself, know the things that drove him, because Dom couldn't tell him, couldn't help him the way that Elijah would eventually be able to. It wasn't in Dominic's nature to be either that self-aware or that forthcoming. For Dominic, the struggle came with the submission, part and parcel.

It made him difficult as hell, but then, not many subs _gave_ the way Dominic did, and none of those that Billy had known had ever been able to take what Dom could take. Billy had never been tempted to trade it away for someone less fractious, even at times like these, when Dom's need to fight made everything ten times more complicated than it might have otherwise been.

Another truism, bleak and sharp, but good to know, was that Dominic's rather adventurous past tended to make him inconsistent at times. It'd actually got quite a bit better in the last year or so, as the deep places in Dom's mind came to trust Billy the way the forefront of his mind always had, but one of the mannerisms he hadn't ever been able to shed completely was a low grade almost-panic at having Billy out of his sight whilst armed with a strap. Billy knew why.

"Fuck," Dom growled, and threw a quick look over his shoulder, gaze darting from Billy to Elijah and back again. After a few seconds, Dom looked away, and began taking slow, deliberate breaths. Billy didn't interfere. It was the first time he'd seen Dom try and wrest control away from his own impending panic, and he knew he had Elijah to thank for it, Dom's desire not to completely lose his shite in front of Elijah. He was more than willing to let him give it a go.

"What's he doing?" Elijah murmured, and tension arced into Dominic's shoulders immediately, though he continued to breathe with slow deliberation. Billy was impressed.

"Trying not to panic," Billy replied, keeping his own voice soft and warm, unwilling to derail Dom's efforts with any of his more cutting tones.

"Panic?" Elijah said sharply, alarmed. "Why would he panic?"

Billy resisted the urge to sigh as Dom's back went rigid and his breath hitched slightly before he got ahold of himself. Billy watched Dom's shoulders inch downward minutely, ignoring Elijah's question completely until he was fairly sure Dom had settled some.

Then he whirled on Elijah quickly, eyes narrowed, and raised the hand holding the strap just enough to convey intent. He didn't move toward Elijah, and he didn't speak, but Elijah's eyes went comically wide and he took two stumbling steps backward before visibly forcing himself to stop.

Billy let his hand drop and quirked a brow, allowing a smirk to play at the edges of his lips.

"Oh," Elijah said almost silently.

Dom snorted softly. He was still breathing a bit raggedly, but the danger seemed to have passed. That fact that he was clear-headed enough to guess at what had happened and be amused by it was a fairly solid indicator that he wasn't going to slide into hysterics, anyway. While Billy was all for the sweaty-tang of Dominic's fear, he wasn't a fan of genuine panic. Regardless of the reason, he was pleased with Dom for managing a bit of self-control.

He rewarded Dom by drawing his arm back and cocking his body enough to put some force behind the swing, laying the strap diagonally across Dom's back, shoulder blade to ribs. Dom hissed out a choked cry, more surprise than pain, as it took somewhat more than that to nudge him into the more vocal part of the evening, and went to his toes for a few seconds, back arched and lovely, head tipped back, fists clenched. He dropped back down again immediately after, his chin dipping down toward his chest, and took a long, shuddering breath.

The mark the belt had made was pink and only slightly raised. A pretty start, and Billy ran a light fingertip along the length of it, which made Dom shudder and let escape a small, wounded sound that made the back of Billy's neck prickle with the awareness of Dom's vulnerability. His fingers tightened around the strap until the leather curled in his hand, creaking in protest, everything in him yearning for that sound, determined to be the reason for it, a witness to it. It took real effort not to touch him again -- not to hit him again -- immediately.

He turned and met Elijah's eyes, let him see everything there, the want, the craving to hurt. It was part of the answer to the question Elijah wanted answering, no matter what direction his interest eventually settled on, and Billy was too aware of the enormous responsibility he had to hide the things that Elijah needed to know.

Dominic wasn't a true masochist, and Billy himself wasn't much of a sadist, but of the two of them, Billy was far and away closer to his extreme than Dom would ever be to the other.

Elijah stared, mouth slightly open, more fascination than fright, though there was definitely some uneasiness there. It was only a handful of seconds before Elijah closed his mouth, but Billy knew Elijah well enough -- knew the heated animal that lived beneath Elijah's skin, just as it lived beneath Billy's -- to see the understanding when it seeped into Elijah's eyes.

He turned his attention back to Dom's back with its single, livid stripe, and felt his face settling back into something far less revealing, even as his cock roared its want silently in his jeans. Only a few seconds, but long enough for him to grasp Elijah just as clearly as he had allowed Elijah to grasp him. A few seconds to slide suspicion into certainty that he had to set aside for the moment, push away, because there wasn't room enough in his brain right now to think about how close Elijah was to either extreme.

He reached out and rested the fingertips of his free hand directly between Dom's shoulder blades. he didn't touch the mark he had made, but Dom quivered under his touch, the sinewy muscles of his back sliding beneath sleek skin. "Again?" he asked, because Dom always struggled at being asked to affirm his willingness, and it was as much the struggle that got Dom off as it was the pleasure or the pain, or the dichotomy of the two together.

"Yeah," Dom breathed, head still tipped down, giving him the illusion of humility that Billy adored, but certainly didn't believe.

But he'd take the illusion for the moment, combined with Dom asking so nicely, voice breathy and thick with fear and shame and desire, twisted together in a way that Billy had never heard from anyone else, so he drew back and lay the strap twice across Dominic's back, fast enough that the gasping groan Dom let out at the first blow choked off most of the shout he attempted at the second, breaking the sound into beautiful, dissonant fragments.

"Oh, Jesus," Elijah whispered faintly. Billy glanced at him just long enough to make sure he wasn't about to bolt or pass out, took in his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. His voice was nearly as fragmented as Dominic's.

"Dominic," Billy demanded, and Dom gave him that sound, small and pained, and Billy's lust was fierce enough to make him almost light-headed.

"Please," Dom managed, which Billy knew absolutely was nowhere near the best he could do (long, low, heated confessions of want, tears and real pleas, broken and brilliant and honest), but accepted because Elijah changed everything, had from the very beginning, and he was willing to give Dom some time to settle into having him there.

This time he didn't count, and he knew Dom wasn't counting. This time he was steady and relentless, nowhere near what he _could_ do, but enough, hard enough, pushing Dom until he was on his toes, head tipped back, low light gleaming on the wet trails on his face (pain-tears, not real tears; Billy wasn't sure they would go that far this time) as he cried out loud, open-throated and hoarse, twisting his wrists in the cuffs, arms bunching and shuddering, but not trying even for a moment to avoid the blows, until his back was red and white with welts, and he choked on what was close enough to an actual scream to satisfy Billy.

He dropped his arm, shoulder aching a little, and Dom's knees folded two seconds later. He hung, gasping and shaking and beautiful, from the think bands of leather around his wrists. "Get up," Billy demanded, and when Dominic didn't move, he snapped the last six inches of the strap into sharp contact with Dom's thigh. Dom twitched at the sting -- a sting was all it was, with his jeans still protecting his legs -- but got his feet under him a moment later.

Billy sight-checked Dom's hands, familiar enough with him and the cuffs to be able to tell that both were still fine, the cuffs biting reddened lines into Dom's forearms, but not harming him.

"Please," Dom choked out, garbled but urgent, before Billy asked him again, but Billy didn't move for a long moment, absorbed in the pattern that had appeared across the canvas of Dom's back, pink and red and white criss-crossed atop pale golden skin. He was aware of Elijah beside him, close enough to touch.

"Billy," Dom groaned, a little clearer this time, and Elijah reached out, setting his palm at the base of Dom's neck and smoothing it slowly and firmly down the line of his spine.

Dom moaned, back arching (though not enough to actually avoid Elijah's hand, Billy noted, smiling fondly), and both Elijah and Dom shuddered.

"I can almost read him like Braille," Elijah murmured distantly. "His skin is like fire."

Dom made a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a moan as Elijah stroked across his back and ribs with both hands this time, small, blunt fingers pressing at first one welt, and then another; it went on long enough that a familiar, tell-tale tremble began stuttering through Dom's body, the big muscles in his thighs tensing and untensing. "Please," he whispered, low and forthright, real. Billy had to clamp down hard on the urge to thrust Elijah out of the way, the instinctive need to answer the shivering, aching _need_ in Dominic's voice, in Dominic's body.

"Go sit on the bed, Elijah," Billy said, and Elijah's hands dropped away from Dom's back immediately. He turned slightly and took a step to move around Dom before he hesitated, looking as though he were coming back to himself, and turned back to face Billy.

"Why?"' he asked, and Billy fixed him with a long, hard look that had him inching backward toward the bed; it wasn't fair, of course, but Billy wasn't all that interested in fair at this point. Not that he was ever all that interested in fair. He was too impatient to bother with the relative inequality inherent in his and Elijah's positions right now; Dominic was quivering in his skin and making quiet, hitching sounds that would become words if Billy didn't attend to him, and there wasn't time for fair. "Because I want Dominic to see you watching," he said simply.

Dom made a quiet, helpless sound, just on the acceptable side of an objection, and Billy fought back a smile. It had taken Dom quite some time to learn the shape of what Billy would allow, but he'd got quite good at staying within bounds, eventually. Billy pressed a hand between Dom's shoulder blades, careful and gentle, and Dom settled some.

Elijah merely looked thoughtful, but he was still backing up, kept backing up until his thighs fetched up against the side of the bed and he looked away to clamber up onto the mattress. He settled himself in the middle, and on his knees. Billy couldn't tell if it was deliberate, or automatic, but he approved either way. After a second or so, he tugged his t-shirt over his head and tossed it in the general direction of the foot of the bed, and then unbuttoned his jeans and tugged his cock out.

He knew the instant that Dom's attention shifted from Billy, behind him, to Elijah's cock. Dom's chin came up, the muscles in his back going a little tight under Billy's hand. He was unusually still; surprised, Billy thought.

Billy was surprised, too. Elijah had mostly overcome his shyness with the two of them, but he was still far less wanton that Dom, who'd use the slightest excuse imaginable to be naked. He flexed his fingers slowly, digging the tips into Dom's back just to hear his breathing go tight and quick. He didn't actually mind sharing Dom's attention with Elijah. If he had, things never would have come to this to begin with.

He leaned in to brush his lips along the side of Dom's throat, and murmur, "I want you to see him seeing you, Dominic. Do _not_ close your fucking eyes." He hooked his fingers into the waist of Dom's jeans and dragged his arse firmly back against Billy's groin for a few seconds, and Dom gasped out a low, hot sound and shoved back. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "He'll be no stranger to this before long, Dominic, and he'll be far more apt to cut you to ribbons than I ever would."

Not strictly true, of course, but there were enough differences between Elijah and Billy himself that he knew _Dom_ saw it that way, and that was what mattered. Dom shuddered, whole body quivering against Billy for several slow, sweet seconds, until Billy took a step back. He ran his hand down Dom's back much as Elijah had. None of the welts were all that serious; Dom was actually something of a lightweight. He welted easily, broke easily under pain. He wanted it, sometimes, even much of the time, but pain for its own sake, pain without pleasure to balance it... it didn't take much. It would take some care not to lay anything too serious over the top of what was already there.

Billy situated himself so the belt would fall at the angle he wanted, far enough to one side that he could see Elijah, and then waited for Dom's breathing to settle, waited while seconds built into minutes, until Dom finally sighed out, "Please," low and sweet and trembling.

He didn't stop, this time, pushed Dom through groans and into open-mouthed cries, pushed him until he was jerking furiously, hands fisted above the leather of the cuffs, pushed him through into silence, Dominic's face tipped up (but his eyes open, obediently fixed on the bed, though Billy doubted he was seeing anything very clearly), mouth open and soundless, and so fucking beautiful Billy's hands shook when he caught at Dom's shoulders, tugging him back against Billy's chest. The skin of his back was blood-hot and quivering against Billy's chest, and Dom shuddered soundlessly and arched, shoving his arse against Billy's groin at the same time he pulled the raw skin of his back away from the friction of Billy's chest.

Billy leaned in, mouthing the sweaty nape of Dom's neck, and curled his left hand around Dom's hip, across the front of his body to press the heel of his hand briefly against the bulge in Dom's Levis, stroking his thumb roughly across the damp spot over the head of Dom's cock.

Dom didn't make a sound, just jerked, body tight and quivering with sensation which would, at this point, be triggering Dom in every direction, pain and pleasure and forced restraint, the helplessness that he craved, the lack of control over himself and everything around him. Billy let the strap drop to the floor to wrap his arm around Dom's waist, drawing him back with a hand splayed across his chest, forcing his back straight and into contact with Billy's skin, using his other hand to press harder against Dom's trapped cock.

"Oh, oh, please, Bill, Jesus, _please_ ," Dom stuttered out, hoarse and rasping and thick. Billy bit down on Dom's throat, enough pressure to make Dom writhe and choke out a sobbing little wail that owed equally to lust and pain.

Billy flicked open the button of Dom's jeans and let his thumb dip down just below Dom's waistband and encountered the slick head of Dom's cock; they both hissed this time.

"Tell me," Billy demanded, harsh and cracking and brutal, unwilling to accept less than everything simply because Dom was shy of Elijah; he licked at the big, taut tendon in Dom's throat, slid his thumb deliberately through precome and down to trace the flared head of Dom's cock.

"I want," Dom gasped, "I _want_ , please, you, anything you-" His voice seized up with a short, sharp inhalation just as Billy felt the small, cool fingers of Elijah's hand brushing across the backs of his own, and then sliding beneath Billy's fingers to jerk at one side of Dom's fly, the worn zip parting easily with just a tug.

Billy's hand was abruptly full of Dom's cock, and he felt Elijah's mouth slip over the head with his hand -- Elijah's soft lips grazing damp against the edge of his index finger -- and through Dom's body -- the abrupt surge of motion, Dom going up to his toes and shuddering in an instant, head falling back against Billy's shoulder, a thin, harsh cry drawn helplessly from his throat.

 _You little son of a-_ Billy thought, and dropped his hand from Dom's chest to fist it in Elijah's hair, jerking him roughly off of Dom's cock. But there was a short, sharp thrill of understanding there, too, and he gave himself a moment to ride it out, holding the three of them still, Dom panting and gasping a little in loss, Elijah's face twisted into a tight expression of dismay, Billy's cock jerking and twitching demandingly in his jeans while he took slow, deliberate breaths and considered how he was going to deal with it.

He pressed his lips carefully against Dom's shoulder, let them linger there until Dom's body loosened, until he settled into waiting. Dom didn't make a sound when Billy released his cock and took a step back. He eased around Dom without releasing his grip on Elijah's hair, and Billy had rarely been as grateful for Dom's instinctive grasp of things. He was glad that Elijah had waited long enough to interfere that Dom was already deep into submission; it made an unexpected delay far less likely to cause problems.

He wondered if it had been deliberate on Elijah's part, but then decided he didn't care. He'd deal with that later.

"Get up," he said, soft and flat, and Elijah rose to his feet at once. Billy let his hand relax in Elijah's hair and slid it down around the back of his neck instead, drew him in until their foreheads touched. Elijah was panting a little, quivering anxiously, and Billy did _not_ shake him roughly by the back of the neck, did _not_ shove him to his knees and press until his forehead touched the floor, did _not_ snatch up the strap from where it lay abandoned at Dom's feet and use it to make Elijah regret even _thinking_ about testing Billy's patience and his self-control.

It wasn't in Elijah's nature to push; he wasn't Dominic, didn't need the struggle. So this was something else.

"You're goading me, Elijah," he said, low and soft, careful, if not exactly gentle. Neither of them responded particularly well to gentle.

Elijah's hands curled into fists at his sides, and then relaxed again just as abruptly. "I-" he whispered, and then swallowed audibly, a little click in his throat. "I'm sorry. Fuck. Billy, I'm sorry. I can-" He made a short, expressive gesture toward the door, and Billy drew back enough to meet his gaze.

"Don't ever think it," he said, and actually did give Elijah a little shake, for emphasis. "I'm never going to send you away, Elijah."

Elijah swallowed again, his pretty mouth slightly open, lower lip trembling, but he just nodded.

"Okay," Billy said, and leaned in to kiss him, taking care to keep it as easy as it could be, comfort and certainty, until Elijah's mouth went lax and soft, open and accepting beneath his. "Good," he murmured, pulling away from the sweet give of Elijah's mouth. "Good, now. Take off your jeans."

Elijah hooked his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and pushed them past his hips; they sagged the rest of the way down on their own, past slim thighs, and he kicked them away. He was flushed and uncertain, but his eyes were gleaming and bright. "I don't know," he whispered, and swallowed, and reached for Billy, his fingertips slipping uncertainly across Billy's collarbone. "I- I'm..."

"I've got you," Billy murmured, and leaned into Elijah's hand, let him take the comfort-by-touch that he so clearly wanted. "I'll show you. Just let me." He caught Elijah's wrist and pressed a kiss to the inside of it before tightening his grip deliberately, slowly enough to watch Elijah's face go hopeful and soft, to hear him take several quick little breaths. Then he twisted it, stepping in and catching his hip to turn him toward the long line of Dom's right side, pushing it up to the middle of his back just hard enough to draw a soft, harsh little whine from Elijah's throat. "Get down," he growled with his lips close to Elijah's ear, and Elijah went down like his knees had come unhinged, so fast that Billy had to catch him one-armed around the waist to keep him from landing too hard.

Elijah gulped a little, and tipped his head forward to lean against Dom's hip, then turned his face and rubbed it against Dom's jeans, like he couldn't stop himself.

Billy paused to check Dom's hands, and then his face.

Dom had his head tipped down and was giving Elijah such a soft, sweet look that Billy had to smile, had to leave them for a handful of seconds and let them have this.

Then he stepped around Dom and rested a hand at the small of his back, fingertips pressing lightly against the welted skin centimeters above the waist of Dom's jeans. He curled the other hand around Dom's hip and nudged him around, reaching up to pull the chain of the overheads through the eyebolt to compensate for the changing angle, until Dom was facing Elijah.

There wasn't really enough room, and the angle wasn't perfect, but he could get to Elijah's back and Dom's chest, and it would do.

He paused and palmed himself through his jeans; Dom and Elijah both went still, heads swiveling to track his motion, and Billy smirked fiercely at the pair of them. He was never quite prepared for how searing it was, every time they reached one of these cusps, these moments of suppressed need. He could forget, between one and the next, how it felt to be caught up in it, how the things he had to wait for grew edges and teeth, sharper and more vicious for each time he'd had to put them aside. After, it was all triumph and bliss and satiation, and it was easy to forget that he wasn't immune to the steady pulse of _want, want, want_ and the helpless, human desire to ignore the danger and the consequences, and merely _have_. He curled his hand around the length of himself and thumbed the head of his cock through the thick fabric of his jeans, watching the two of them see, letting himself enjoy the clawing, biting, perversely agonizing power of having them this way, at his fucking _mercy_ , and then put it aside. Again.

He went down to one knee beside Dom and jerked his jeans down his long, hard thighs. "Step out," he snapped, and Dom choked out a hoarse, helpless gasp and lifted one foot obediently. Billy could hear Elijah breathing heavily as he curled a hand around Dom's other ankle and muscled it up, jerking the jeans off over his foot and shoving them out of the way. He ran a hand up the backs of Dominic's near thigh, tucking his thumb into the warm, damp crease where his thigh curved up into his arse. Dom took three short, quick breaths, open-mouthed and needy, and Billy tipped his head down and pushed his mouth against the back of Dom's knee, grazed his teeth along sweat-slick skin and tasted salt.

"God, fuck me, fuck me," Dom grated out, voice hoarse and lovely. "Bill, Billy, God, _please_ -"

"Hush," Billy murmured, sliding his hand around to the front of Dom's thigh and upward to grasp his hip. "Shh, Dommie, hush now."

Dom went quiet, or at least stopped speaking, though he was gasping out soft, high breaths as Billy traced up the back of his thigh with his mouth, with his teeth, as he bit down deliberately on the jut of Dom's hipbone. He pressed a last, soft kiss against the bite marks he'd left, and turned to give Elijah a long, dark look. Elijah stared back, eyes wide and dark, pupils huge. "Put your mouth on him," he said, and reached and caught Elijah's chin as he leaned in to obey. "Don't let him come, Elijah. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I-" He licked his lips and nodded. "I won't let him come."

Billy let him go and leaned to scoop up the strap, aware of both of them tracking the course of his hand. He stood as Elijah leaned in, tongue darting out to slip across the head of Dom's cock, unselfconsciously lapping away the shine of precome. Dom hissed, hips twitching, but he was looking at Billy, eyes slate-dark and hungry. Billy reached out and flicked at one of Dom's nipples, and there was a flicker of understanding, eyes going wide and bright with fear for two or three seconds before he closed them tight, chin dipping down. There was no cocked-jaw belligerence, though, and his mouth was soft and open, and Billy knew what Dom looked like when he was done fighting, when he was far enough down to merely _accept_.

Billy wrapped the end of the strap around his fist an extra time, shortening the length of the strap to allow for more control. Elijah tipped his chin up, lips sliding all the way down Dom's cock, both palms resting lightly on Dom's thighs, and Dom's breath went still for several seconds, long enough that Billy just waited, in case it turned out he needed to do something about it. He tightened his fist around the leather in his hand, and it creaked soothingly, familiar and grounding.

Then Dom finally hitched in a breath as Elijah pulled slowly off his cock, and Billy brought the belt across Dom's belly just above his navel with a sharp, violent noise that made Elijah jump and Dom bark out a harsh little cry like a sob.

"Be so still, Dommie," Billy murmured, and did it again as Elijah slid his mouth back down. Dom's head rocked back, eyes clenched shut in his flushed face, mouth open. His breathing was so agonized that it sounded like he was tearing at the air, and his hands were fisted tightly above the wide leather of the cuffs, but he was utterly still.

The thick, reddened shaft of his cock slipped free of Elijah's lips, slick and gorgeous, and his hips didn't even twitch.

Billy's next swing took him across both nipples, timed so that Elijah had his chin pressed up against Dom's balls, and Dom's hips jerked forward hard enough to make Elijah gag, the sound of it almost entirely buried under Dom's open-mouthed, cracked shout.

Billy could hear himself breathing, feel the muscles of his face twitching, pulled into a fierce grimace of furious want, and didn't give either of them time to recover before he swung again, low across the slab of muscle arrowing from Dom's belly to his groin, the strap just barely over the top of Elijah's head. He wasn't swinging hard, but Dom never handled his front as well as his back, and he was already gasping out sounds that were gorgeously close to sobs, and Elijah was panting harshly through his nose, his hands no longer soft against Dom's thighs, but curled tight and driving fingertips into dense muscle.

It only took two more blows for Dom to let loose what was definitely a scream, followed immediately by a stream of hoarse, desperate words. "Please, God, oh, please, I can't, I need to, Billy I'm going to..." And Billy slid a hand around the spit-slick base of Dom's cock and gripped hard, leaning in to kiss Dom at the same time, Dom's mouth hotly cooperative.

"I'm not done with you, don't come," he murmured against Dom's lips, flicking his tongue out to taste the shape of Dom's upper lip, resting his free hand briefly against the top of Elijah's head, feeling him pull off obediently. He dropped the strap carelessly and leaned in, running a splayed hand across his chest, his skin silky with sweat above the welts. "God, Dominic," he snarled and lapped at the line of his jaw, grazing it with his teeth, and Dom hitched in a breath and shuddered tautly for the space of three or four seconds, and then made a quiet, helpless noise, his whole body abruptly loose and trembling and leaning into Billy's chest as a single, harsh sob escaped him.

Billy curled an arm around him and waited; Dom would scream and cry out and groan and beg, but he never cried until after. He shoved his face into the crook of Billy's neck and sobbed out his pain and effort and want against Billy's skin. "So fucking beautiful," Billy soothed, pressing his lips to Dom's hairline, "so fucking perfect." It subsided as quickly as it had come on; his Dominic was a creature of mercurial moods like squalls, brief and violent and then done. Billy adored them. "So good," he whispered, and kissed Dom's shoulder and his neck and his lips.

"Bill," Dom whispered thickly, a plea, and Billy tightened his arm around Dom's back, heedless of the sweaty heat of him and the tenderness of his abraded skin; Dom leaned into it with a little sigh. Billy slid a hand down the front of his body, detouring around his cock to cup his balls, kneading a little roughly just to feel Dom tense. Elijah let out a whispery moan, and leaned in slowly and lapped at the backs of Billy's fingers, breathing in long, low sighs, tongue hot and slick and soft.

"The two of you," Billy said, his voice coming low and rough, and turned his hand to cup Elijah's jaw gently. "Christ, the two of you."

Elijah's chin rose slowly, as though he were coming back from someplace distant. His face was open, breathtakingly sweet, his eyes glassy and drugged with the thick pull of submission. All of it from merely sucking Dom's cock, from just hearing him take the strap. "Please," he breathed, and turned his face into Billy's palm, eyes sliding closed. "God, please hurt me."

Dom groaned, his head falling back, and his hips snapped forward hard enough that Billy caught him instinctively with one hand, holding him still without looking away from Elijah, totally and comprehensively _unable_ to look away from him.

Knowing that Elijah was not the same kind of sub as Dominic -- and Billy _did_ know, he'd always known -- wasn't even remotely the same as hearing Elijah ask for it so fucking blatantly, so fucking _sweetly_ , want raw and open on his face.

"You want me to strap you," he said, not because there was really any question of it, but because Elijah was young and inexperienced, and Billy fucking refused to have _two_ subs with strapping related trauma.

"Yes," Elijah said simply, and Billy watched him rub his face against Billy's cradling palm like a cat, slow and languorous. "Yeah, oh yeah, please, I want to feel, I, please, I..." and he likely would have continued, voice low and slurred and needful, but Billy slid his thumb around to rest against his lips, stilling them.

"Dom," he said, and turned to look at him; Dom was staring down at Elijah, face unexpectedly fierce and tender.

Dom's head snapped around to look at him, and his eyes were hot and dark. "Do it to him," he murmured, voice quiet and still, slow and at odds with the hot need in his eyes. "Give him," he whispered, "make him _see_." Then he dipped his head down to press his forehead against Billy's shoulder hard. "I can wait." He sounded contented, as he so rarely was, as he so badly wanted to be.

 _Christ,_ Billy thought, cock aching at Dom, _his_ Dominic, who bit and growled as a matter of course, who wanted violence like some subs craved tenderness, asserting so casually that he could wait. He _never_ waited.

It made Billy perversely unwilling to make him.

He glanced between them, and then reached up to free Dom's hands. Dom did nothing but drop them to his sides and roll his shoulders slightly, waiting and willing, and there was no need to ask him what he wanted. Dom was down, and he wanted whatever he got. It was there in his face, unconcealed as it always was, eventually. "Lay down on your back on the bed," Billy told him, and Dom obeyed wordlessly.

There was lube on the nightstand -- there always was -- and he grabbed the tube and tossed it on the bed beside Dom. He gave Dom a small, sharp smile, and said, "Slick your cock up."

Dom gave him a smile, lopsided and blissed and almost shy, flushing a little as he obeyed.

Billy went to one knee beside Elijah -- uncomfortably; his cock was so hard it felt like it might shatter -- and cupped his chin, tipping his face up to look at him. "You're going to cry for me," he told Elijah, voice as calm and matter-of-fact as he could make it. Elijah blinked at him, eyes huge and dark, and bit his lip.

Then he nodded slowly, and whispered, "Yes."

"Good boy," he murmured, and tugged Elijah to his feet with a hand around the back of his neck, urging him over to and up onto the bed by the simple expedient of half-lifting him onto it, pressing a hand to the back of Elijah's thigh to get him to swing it over Dominic's legs. He didn't let him settle, didn't give him time to think, just pressed him up to straddle Dom's hips and reached beneath him to angle Dom's cock, pushing down hard enough to give him no real choice in the matter. Not that he wanted that.

Elijah's head rocked back as the crown of Dom's cock breached his hole, hissing out a low _ah ah ah ah_ that clenched in Billy's belly hotly. Dom moaned, low and heated, but didn't arch up into the heat of Elijah's arse, just let it happen, hands curled loose and open on the coverlet, palms up.

"Lean," Billy instructed, and pushed with a hand between Elijah's shoulder blades; Elijah pitched forward, catching himself with his hands on Dom's chest. "Good, right there. Get his hands, Dominic."

Dom's long fingers curled firmly around Elijah's slim wrists, and Elijah made a small sound, hips rocking a little. His cock was hard and red, and nearly touching Dom's belly. "Please," he whispered. "God, please." Billy curled a hand hard around his hip, fingers biting into soft flesh, stilling his restless hips.

"Dominic, you do nothing." He gave Dom a long, hard look, overt threat that Dom wouldn't dream of flouting in his current condition. "Just be still."

"Yes," Dom whispered, his breathlessness not boding well for his ability to follow through; Dom was always more willing than capable like this.

Never mind. He'd deal with it later, if need be. He bent at the waist to recover the discarded strap and moved to stand behind Elijah, wrapping it around his fist until it was as short as it could be and still be useful.

He could see the thick, blood-red shaft of Dom's cock parting the soft cheeks of Elijah's arse; Dom was breathing in hoarse, sharp pants, and Elijah in high, breathy whimpers that made Billy want to do nothing so much as gag him with his cock.

He didn't know, couldn't even _remember_ the last time he'd wanted to hurt someone the way he wanted to hurt Elijah. He knew, understood implicitly, that Elijah's need ratcheted up Billy's own; that was how it worked for him. If Elijah didn't want it so fucking badly, Billy wouldn't have near the same drive to give it, but that didn't make it any less real.

"Keep as still as you can, 'Lijah," he said, and splayed a hand low on his back. Elijah choked on a stuttering little whine that spiraled straight to Billy's nuts. "Be so still." He sounded thick and rapt with want even to himself; there was no hiding it, and he didn't bother trying. "Don't fight the strap."

Elijah didn't understand what that meant, of course, but his lack didn't stop him from shivering under Billy's hand, moaning out, "Please, God," in a broken little voice, true and helpless supplication that Billy could never in a million years hope to resist, sweet and heady and pure.

"Don't fight," he whispered one more time, and slid his hand up to cup Elijah's shoulder, stepping back with one foot to give himself some space. "Just take it."

The first blow brought nothing, no sound at all, just an abrupt tensing of Elijah's entire slim frame, the wiry muscles in his arms and the cords of his neck and even the taut muscles under the skin of his back going visibly harder, tighter, gorgeous and shivering. Dominic moaned out a soft stream of profanity in response.

"Don't fight," Billy said again, but he didn't wait for understanding or obedience before bringing the leather across the pale, smooth skin of Elijah's back, and this time Elijah let out a brief, harsh cry and shuddered down onto Dom's cock so abruptly that they both cried out, and Dom's hips stuttered helplessly upward. Billy snarled and flicked the strap against Dom's thigh, and Dom's head whipped around, mouth open and soft, eyes wide and wounded. "Be _still_ , Dominic," Billy hissed, and Dom's eyes dropped quickly, hands tightening around Elijah's wrists.

The two marks were dark against Elijah's skin, insulting red slashes amid all the white, and Billy pressed his fingertips against his back and dragged them harshly across both of them. Elijah hissed and shivered, but didn't resist, and he'd gone soft and yielding in all the places where he'd been taut and hard.

"Again," Billy told him thickly, a courtesy he would not have extended to Dom, since Dom wasn't interested in that sort of courtesy.

Elijah didn't even tense this time; his head rolled back on his shoulders, eyes wide and utterly blank, mouth open and wet, and groaned out something that didn't quite resolve itself into words. Billy's cock jerked in his jeans and the muscles in Dom's forearms bunched as his hands went tight around Elijah's wrists.

"Oh, yes," Billy heard himself whisper, and abandoned courtesy.

Elijah writhed so fucking prettily, the rise and fall of his body under the strap was like watching the swell of the sea, hypnotic in its visceral beauty, the sound of the leather striking his skin like feather-light touches along Billy's long-neglected cock, and he took it, just fucking took it, sweet and pliant and absolutely perfect, offering up cracking, helpless groans that slid seamlessly into open-throated sobs, his face wet and stripped bare, while Dominic moaned a ceaseless accompaniment.

His incoherence resolved itself, somewhere between one blow and the next, into a shattered barrage of slurring, desperate words interspersed with sobs, "God, oh, oh, please, I- I- I..." and Billy was surprised only for an instant before surprise was obliterated by hot-white, raging lust.

He snapped, "Dominic," and Dom didn't hesitate to release Elijah's wrist and curl his hand around Elijah's cock instead.

Elijah shrieked out something high and inarticulate and grateful, and came at once, hands clawing at Dom's chest while Billy focused all his attention on bringing him through to the other side, staying with him until he shuddered downward into tremoring exhaustion, and finally let his hand drop to his side, a low, dense ache in his shoulder, perhaps two seconds before Elijah went entirely limp, arm's giving out so that Dom had to catch him up with one palm and ease him down against his chest.

Billy caught Dom's gaze, unsurprised to find him still and shaking and staring at Billy as though he didn't dare let himself see the decadent sprawl of Elijah's body, his cock still deeply buried in the heat of Elijah's arse.

He was frankly surprised that Dom had lasted. Billy wasn't sure _he_ could have lasted.

He jerked his jeans open and circled the base of his cock with one hand, a low, harsh grip that probably wasn't going to help for any length of time, and snarled, "Go on, Dommie," and swung one knee up on the bed to lean over the two of them, just shoving his cock against Elijah's hip, one hand braced on the mattress for balance.

Dom's shoulders pushed down against the mattress as he shoved his hips up, eyes snapping closed, and Elijah moaned, low and wasted, blissed out pleasure, not even close to a protest and without the faintest whisper of resistance. Billy let desire flare up unchecked this time, shoved his hand against the marked skin of Elijah's back and curled his fingertips hard against it, dragged them across hot, raised flesh until Elijah moaned helplessly, his body rocked by Dom's rough, furious thrusts. Billy pushed against Elijah's hips, already close enough that anything more was both unnecessary and impossible, and he came in hot, hard pulses when Dom snarled out his release and relief, eyes wide open so he could see them both, keep the uninhibited and matchless perfection of their spent, flushed bodies tangled together beneath him.

It was a while before any of them recovered themselves enough to move, but Billy eventually kicked his jeans the rest of the way off and slumped onto the bed, half-pressed against the warm, solid bulk of Dom's chest. His hand, still resting lightly against Elijah's back, stroked idly down his spine, and Elijah sighed and murmured something wordless and encouraging.

Once his head was a bit more together, he opened his eyes and saw Dom watching him, lips curved into a gentle, serene smile, eyes still eddying with the slow, lazy currents of deep submission. Billy wanted to fuck him, looking like that, _loved_ fucking Dom while he was so soft and sweet and raw, wanted to bend Dom's knees up to his chest and sink into the tight heat of his lovely arse, face to face, so he could watch Dom ride his submission.

Not that it was going to happen any time soon. He was bloody _tired_.

Elijah stirred, and tipped slowly off Dom's chest, a low uncoiling of heavy limbs that was oddly lovely to watch, all languid, sinuous motion. He tipped his chin into the hollow of Dom's shoulder and looked at Billy across the expanse of Dom's marked chest, eyes bright and alert, though his face was still soft. He was coming out of it, though, another difference between the two of them; Elijah would be pretty much back to normal in a few minutes or so.

Dom had hours ahead of him. Longer, if one of them wanted to work at keeping him there.

"Thanks," Elijah whispered, smiling sweetly and obviously utterly sincere.

Billy couldn't quite hold back a snort. "Aye, well. You're welcome. Although it should be noted for the record that I'm getting too bloody old to handle this shite."

Dom hummed out a little laugh, and Elijah gave him a disbelieving look that managed to be smirky at the same time.

"The two of you," Billy sighed, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are wondering, no, this series probably isn't done. In my head, there is at least one more big story, and maybe one smaller one. If or when I write it or them, however, is entirely up in the air. I'll do it when I feel like it. =)


End file.
